Mixed
by Quiteokayish
Summary: Lovino had done it; he had made it onto national television as a news journalist. He had the means to do anything he wanted. He even hired a groundskeeper to tend to the massive garden he'd been left with. Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was the man's name, not that he cared, obviously. Newsroom AU, because that's all I know how to write apparently.
1. Chapter 1

_Lovino had done it; he had made it onto national television as a news journalist. He had the means to do anything he wanted. He even hired a groundskeeper to tend to the massive garden he'd been left with. Antonio Carriedo was the man's name, not that Lovino cared, obviously. Newsroom AU, because that's all I know how to write apparently._

* * *

This had to count as sexual harassment somehow, right?

The man, a Spaniard judging by his accent, was talking to him about the various summers he had spent tending to fields with his grandfather, all the while the corner of his lips seemed to be permanently tugged upwards, as if his face was frozen in a constant smile. His olive skin was a little burnt, since Lovino's yard didn't offer much shade, and a noticeable amount of sweat gathered at the collar of his shirt in the summer heat. Kneeling in the dirt, his gloved hands were gently working out a thorny weed as he panted between words, obviously somewhat exhausted, the man chattered happily to him nevertheless.

Yes, Lovino was definitely being harassed. He wasn't touching him, nor speaking in a crude way, but it was in the way he moved; his arms tensing with each pull on the weed, the muscles in his back visible through the sticky material of his sweat soaked shirt, his green eyes only half open as he spoke, his voice low and warm, his hands tender yet steady on the stubborn weed before him. Lovino stared helplessly. He was beautiful.

The moment the thought crossed his mind he quickly shut down, and mentally shook himself. What was he doing? He didn't even know this man - why was he even talking to him in the first place? Oh, that's right.

"What's your name?"

The sentence pierced through the Spaniard's words, cutting off his story altogether. He let go of the weed for a moment and scratched the back of his neck.

"Honestly Mr. Vargas, shouldn't you have learned that during my interview, or at least see it while signing my contract?"

Lovino crossed his arms, feeling his ears redden. Yes, he should have, but he was so damn busy. He had so many stories to write and scenes to report on, menial things like the name of his new groundskeeper sat buried in the back of his mind, along with a million other subjects that he deemed less important.

"I don't need your sarcasm." Lovino growled, not sure if he was embarrassed or offended, probably little bit of both. "What's your name?"

The Spaniard laughed softly, something that seemed incredibly out of context to Lovino, before saying: "My names Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, though you can call me Toni."

"Well Antonio," he replied, deliberately ignoring his request out of spite or pride or something of the sort, "Your lunch is waiting in the kitchen."

He tilted his head, and though he seemed confused a smile still graced his lips. "There's no need for that Mr. Vargas, I packed my own, though I do appreciate your kindness."

"My brother Feliciano made it." Lovino said quickly, trying to force the blush away from his cheeks. Why was it so damn hot out today? "I'm just the messenger."

Antonio was still smiling, and it only served to make Lovino more uncomfortable. "Well tell Feliciano thank you for me, I'll come eat in a little bit."

"Make sure you wash your hands," Lovino said pointedly, turning away so he didn't have to endure the sight of the Spaniard a moment longer. "And for God's sake change your shirt."

* * *

"I like him an awful lot." Feliciano said after Antonio had checked out for the day. Lovino only grunted from where he sat on the couch writing the script of his latest story. It was the overview of a court case for a brutal murder that happened a few years before. It seemed that the convicted man was getting an appeal, and the public was outraged. He had tried especially hard this time to write with delicacy, something he had been told to work on from the very start of his journalism career.

"We should get a butler too." His brother said absent mindedly. "Or a maid or a cook or-

Lovino snorted. "And when did you become so high and mighty? You can do your all of those things yourself."

Feli frowned. "Well we can do our own gardening too, so why even bother with a groundskeeper?"

Normally he would have responded with a biting remark, but Lovino couldn't help it, this time it was a bit too personal. "Because I don't know shit about plants, and I think mom's garden deserves much more love than we've been giving it."

His younger brother looked down. "You're right," he said, and then a cheerful grin spread across his face. "Does this mean that I don't have to mow the lawn?"

Lovino shook his head. "That's Antonio's job now, though I might have you do it anyways if you keep distracting me from my work with stupid questions."

Feli whined. "Why are you always so mean?"

"Because I work day and night to feed your sorry ass." He said, "I'm honestly just an enabler for your pasta addiction."

"I'd say it's more of a habit,"

* * *

Lovino drank from a bottle of ice water, eyes glazed over as he went over the script again. News could be so boring.

He was lucky that his employer, "World News Daily", had a station in Los Angeles. Geographically, the only difference was a thirty minutes in driving time, and the best part was that he and his brother could remain in their home on the outskirts of the city, where people still had driveways and backyards.

His agent, a flamboyant Frenchman that went by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, had become a useful colleague of his since he'd started going national a few months prior. Though he'd never say so, Lovino appreciated Francis's ability to shrug off every harsh word or insult that he threw at him. His personality had destroyed relationships in the past, and his inability to function smoothly in social situations drove him mad. As annoying as the Frenchman was, he was secretly pleased with his circumstance. Though he didn't consider their relationship that a friendship, it was still the closest Lovino had gotten to having one.

Now if only he'd stop flirting with everyone he saw.

"Oh Lovi, your brother is just darling." He gushed as he came to lean against Lovino's desk. It was nearly time for dinner break, but he was glad that a few producers and reporters lingered in the newsroom. At least then Francis wouldn't get _too_ carried away.

Then Francis's words struck him. "How do you know my brother?" he asked, spinning his chair around. The Frenchman, dressed in his usual stylish silk shirt and slacks, gave Lovino an exaggerated smile.

"Oh I was looking through your phone." He said simply.

"What-" Lovino started, shaking his head, "What the fuck?"

Francis laughed airily. "You see, your phone wasn't the latest model, so I decided I'd take it in and trade it for the newest design! You've got to keep up your image, _mon amie_. It cost a little bit, sure, but with your salary you can afford anything. Look, the camera is HD!"

Lovino quickly snatched his now larger, shinier phone out of his hands. "Ask for my damn permission first." He said. Though money was not nearly as tight as it used to be, in fact he had more than he knew what to do with, he still held on to his frugal life style, and didn't like the idea of his agent going behind his back and spending his funds, regardless of whether or not he could afford it. "And that still doesn't answer my question."

The Frenchman ran a hand through his shoulder length hair. "Well naturally they transferred everything onto this new phone, including pictures and such, and it didn't have a password yet, (not that I didn't already know yours) so I decided to check to make sure that everything was still there and _Oh mon Dieu_ Lovino! Your brother is just adorable."

"And underage." Lovino said. By now he was used to Francis's flirting antics, and was often pulling him away from chatting with girls as well as boys. He had even tried to seduce Lovino at first, but the reporter wasn't having any of it, and once that was clear Francis bounced on to his next target. By now he could usually ignore his coworker's constant pursuit of one night stands, but he drew the line at Feliciano.

"Yes yes," Francis said, the undertones of an accent appearing as they occasionally did. "But a man can wait, especially for someone with that face!"

Lovino sighed heavily. "Feliciano and I look almost exactly alike." He said, and it was true. They had often been mistaken for twins.

"I agree." He said, "But you rejected me, and now I think it's time to heal, and this boy could put me back together and-"

"For the love of God." Lovino said, standing up to gather his things. "I'm going to dinner." He said before turning on his heel and marching out of the newsroom. To his dismay he could hear footsteps approaching from behind him.

"I don't want company." He grumbled when Francis fell into step beside him.

"How rude of you- Lovi!" he said, putting his hands on his hips. "I'm not just company, I'm your agent!"

"Yeah," he said under his breath, "And you're also pretentious and obnoxious and a goddamn pedophile for Feliciano."

When they stepped out of the building and onto the busy LA Street, Lovino did his best to walk away in a discreet fashion, but Francis caught up.

"Feliciano!" he exclaimed, "What a lovely name. It just dances across your lips when you say it!"

"I will literally kill you."

"Lovi, let's go to your house for dinner, that way I can meet him! I know he is young but-"

"We're going to that place that serves English cuisine," he said, trying not to grin as the Frenchman seemed to gag.

"I say we go for Italian." Francis shot back.

Lovino rolled his eyes, but just as he was about to fire a reply a warm, light voice interrupted him.

"Could you settle for Spanish?"

They both turned around to see a grinning Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. The gardener looked different at this time of night; he was covered in neither sweat nor dirt, and seemed to be less at ease than usual.

Lovino was about to ask what he was doing there, but before he could Francis tackled the Spaniard with a bear hug. He felt the back of his neck heat up. What on earth was his agent doing?

"Toni, I've missed you so much!" he said, and Antonio simply laughed and replied. "We just went out for drinks last night."

" _Oh merde_ , you're right." Francis said, and Lovino shoved his hands in his pockets, slightly annoyed that he hadn't been acknowledged yet. He then remembered how he had only just learned Antonio's name, and grudgingly admitted to himself that it was justified.

"Mr. Vargas, what a coincidence!" Antonio piped up, causing Lovino to jump.

The reporter shrugged, trying to think of something civil to say. "How do you know Francis?"

"We go way back." His agent explained. "We met in high school, it was always the two of us-"

"And Gilbert." Antonio interrupted, smiling at Lovino. The reporter was all but comfortable with this situation.

"There were three of us, I guess." Francis corrected himself. "But you see, Gilbert-"

"Sorry," the reporter interrupted, and he was actually sorry, though he couldn't pin down why. "I've only got an hour; I really need to go get food." he glanced at Antonio, and then walked away. They didn't follow. Lovino couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed.

* * *

Antonio watched Lovino's back as he walked away, only half listening to Francis. When he noticed his friend had stopped talking, his attention refocused.

"He's cute, isn't he?"

Antonio hesitated, and then simply nodded.

"I thought so too. I tried to win him over for an entire week, but he wasn't having it. Damn stubborn kid."

The gardener glanced at his friend. "Kid?"

"He's only twenty." Francis said. "He's talented, trust me- he didn't charm his way up the ladder. Don't tell him that though, it'll go to his head. He hasn't been too mean to you, has he?"

"What?" Antonio asked, blinking in surprise.

"You started gardening for him last month right? Has he been harsh with you or…?" Francis left the question hanging.

"I suppose," Antonio said with a shrug. "I think he's probably tired though, he looks worn out."

"I'd avoid him if I were you."

The gardener was confused. "Why?"

"I've worked with him for a few months now," Francis started, "And I think I understand him pretty well. He's a good guy deep down, but on the surface he is the textbook definition of an asshole. I can handle it just fine; I know he doesn't mean most of what he says. He's usually civil with acquaintances, but when he goes into bitch mode…well…"

Antonio shrugged. "I'm sure I can take it."

Francis nodded. "I know you can, and that's why I'm worried."

The Spaniard rolled his eyes, his friend was always the dramatic, "What do you mean by that?"

"The way he looked at you," he said, "he didn't glare."

* * *

Lovino enjoyed his morning strolls in the backyard. It was a simple thing, but it cleared his mind. The air was cool and misty, and he could feel the wet grass tickle the sides of his sandaled feet. The sun wasn't up yet, which meant Feliciano wasn't either. He took a seat on a wooden bench that sat in front of the garden. He'd wait there until his brother came and offered him breakfast, which he would eat outside. It was a daily tradition.

A rustling in the bushes behind him startled him. Lovino jumped and turned around, only to see Antonio crouched on the ground, tending to a tomato plant. The Spaniard hummed quietly to himself, he must not have noticed Lovino sitting a few feet away.

He supposed he should have cleared his throat, or tried to strike up a conversation, but his mind wasn't functioning, he simply sat, neck craned, watching the man go about his work. The pale light of dawn dusted his features. It was different from the harsh sun of the day before, but not in a bad way. The Spaniard was just as beautiful as he remembered.

Lovino shook his head, good God, he was hopeless.

"Mr. Vargas, come over here."

With a start Lovino realized that Antonio must have caught him staring, and he hesitantly made his way into the garden to stand beside him.

Antonio got to his feet, and then took a step closer to him. Lovino reflexed by taking a step back. The movement caused him to pause, and the smile to fall from his lips. Immediately Lovino stepped forward again, avoiding the Spaniard's gaze.

"I won't hurt you, Mr. Vargas." He said gently.

"Better fucking not." Lovino said, surprised at the venom in his voice, he was normally mellow in the mornings. It was only after a day full of annoyances that he became his usual grumpy self.

"Hold out your hand."

He did as he was told, shooting his gardener a questioning gaze. Antonio simply smiled and placed something in his hand.

It was a tomato.

And not even a good one- it was small, wrinkled and squishy in the most unpleasant way. He immediately dropped it. "What the fuck?

Antonio responded with a laugh, one that was clear and hearty that seemed to echo across the yard. "I thought you'd do that." He said. "To be honest with you Mr. Vargas, your garden is shit."

Lovino huffed. "Like I didn't already know. Is that all you wanted to say?"

"No," the Spaniard continued. "I just wanted you to remember what that tomato was like, because by the end of the summer, they'll be so good that you'll eat them like apples."

"That's not enough to get you a raise." Lovino said.

"I don't want a raise." He said, "What I want is for two months to pass, and I'll pick the two best tomatoes I've grown, and then bring you one, and we can eat them together."

For some reason, Lovino felt the tips of his ears turn red. "What?"

A wide grin broke across Antonio's face, "And you'll be so astounded by how it tastes, you'll have to write an article about them- and then you'll make me famous! I'll have my own show and everything."

At that moment Lovino was closer to smiling than he'd been in years. He felt himself relax a little.

"I'll need twenty percent of your profits."

Antonio laughed again, and for some reason Lovino felt his heart speed up, as if he had just been scared, but instead of fear filling him it was a fluttering sense of peace. It was the strangest thing he'd ever experienced, and for a brief moment he wondered if he was dying.

"That's much too high; we're going to have to settle with ten percent."

Lovino shook his head. "Twenty or nothing."

Antonio scratched his chin in a mock thinking gesture, the edges of his lips tugged up in a half smile.

"How about fifteen percent and I buy you dinner?" he asked, adding a wink for good measure.

That strange fluttering in him increased ten-fold, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out. Dear God- what was going on with him?

"Fifteen percent, you buy me dinner and I choose the wine."

"Deal." The gardener said, bringing his hand up so that it was eye level with Lovino, his pinky was noticeably sticking out. "Let's seal it in blood."

He hesitated, but crooked his pinky around Antonio's regardless. He hoped the Spaniard didn't notice how his hand shook. Lovino inwardly groaned- he was so incredibly ill. Forcing himself to speak, he said: "I don't think this is what "Seal it in blood," means."

Antonio shot him a grin. "I'm willing to settle."

* * *

After living with his brother for seventeen years, Lovino was skilled at blocking out most of what came out of Feliciano's mouth. This time was different.

When the phone rang, he didn't bother to get up from his position on the couch, since Feli immediately bolted across the room to get it. The conversation started out with its usual "Hello"'s and "How are you?"'s, but quickly dissolved into Feli shamelessly babbling about puppies and girls and things of that nature. Lovino was able to fade him out quickly enough, and was halfway through writing an article when something Feli said caught his attention.

Well, it wasn't really what he said, but the way he said it.

"Oh, okay."

He spoke softly; the happiness in his voice had all but dissolved now. "When?"

There was a pause in which Lovino tried to regain focus on his work, but the quiet, brittle tone his brother spoke with kept him from doing so.

"I see." Feli said, biting his lip harshly, he let his back hit the wall and simply stood there, and Lovino felt a wave of worry hit him. His brother had never stood still, there was always a toe tapping on the floor or fingers drumming aimlessly, but now his legs were stiff and his free arm rigid at his side. Lovino waiting patiently for him to finish his conversation, there was no way he could simply let this instance go, even if he wanted to.

Feli was silent for a long time, his eye closed as he pressed his phone to his ear harshly.

"Yeah, we should." He said finally, and Lovino hadn't realized he was holding his breath in anticipation for his brother's words. "Definitely, I know some great places to eat at."

He paused, and then locked his gaze with Lovino, his eyes silently pleading. "You want me to make something at home?"

Though he couldn't quite pin down why Feliciano was asking him, he nodded in response to his brother's question. Feli's imploring gaze finally flicked away as he heaved a sigh.

"Sure, you could come over here. We'd love to have you."

There was another heavy pause, and Lovino simply stared at his brother, he thought that he might be starting to understand.

"No, don't apologize, you do what you think is best." He said, his next sentence was almost a whisper. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Lovino was already putting his laptop down on the coffee table when Feliciano hung up. He couldn't make it to his younger brother before he sunk down to the ground, burying his face in his hands.

"What happened?" he asked as gently as he could, coming to sit beside him.

Feliciano simply dissolved into sobs. This occurrence wasn't uncommon, his brother had always been a bit of a crybaby, and normally Lovino would just roll his eyes and make him pasta. This instance- he realized- was different.

He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder, a gentle invitation for comfort that Feli quickly took, resting his face against Lovino's chest as he tried to stop his tears.

Luckily, these episodes never lasted long, and within a minute or two Feli sat up and took the tissue that Lovino offered him. After he had blown his nose a few times and began to take steady breaths, Lovino dared to ask:

"Is it that potato bastard?"

His brother released a laugh, though it was quickly interrupted by a hiccup. "Yes."

Ludwig was a tall, imposing, and orderly man that Feliciano had known since grade school, when he and his family had immigrated to the states from Germany. Much to his brother's dismay, Feli had quickly latched on to Ludwig. Their mother encouraged their friendship, and often invited the grumpy German child over to play with her sons, which usually meant that Ludwig sat quietly as Feli played and Lovino read a book across the room.

Although Lovino expected his brother's friendship to end quickly, as the two were nearly polar opposites, it never did. Ludwig had remained in the States, gotten his citizenship even, and started to lay down the stakes for a successful life. They remained best friends up through high school, and now that it was summer and they had graduated, there was nothing that kept them from visiting each other constantly, which they did. Though recently Ludwig had enlisted in the air force, and Lovino could sense the tension in his brother for the last month or so.

With whatever news he got from that conversation, it seemed to have finally broken him.

"He's leaving?" he asked, not sure why he would, since the country was at peace and there were few reasons to deploy soldiers at the time.

"Yeah." Feli said. "They offered him a position in the Ramstein Air Base in Germany, he'd be teaching German to soldiers there."

"So no fighting?" Lovino asked.

Feli shook his head. "Probably not."

"But he's still going away."

"Yeah," Feli said, "But he'll be getting paid more I think, and he has a lot of family in Germany he hasn't seen in years, and I think he's really excited and I'm happy for him-"

"But he won't be here anymore." Lovino cut off his brother's rant before it could get too far.

"No." Feli shook his head. "But we've graduated so I should have expected us to go separate ways; it really shouldn't be that big of a deal to me."

Lovino was at a loss. He understood his brother better than anyone else, perhaps better than himself, but he couldn't for the life of him think of a way to remedy the situation. Ludwig had been his best friend for years after all, and now he'd be leaving indefinitely.

"He's going to come over for dinner." Lovino said simply, not sure of what he expected to hear in reply.

Feli nodded. "Next Friday he will. He leaves the day after I think."

"God help me." Lovino said, "Now I have to find a recipe that involves pasta _and_ sausage."

That made his brother laugh, which Lovino took for a good sign.

"I work Friday nights, you know that right?"

Feli nodded. "I can cook then, I don't mind."

"I'll bust out some of grandpa's old wine." Lovino said as they stood, his younger brother had now stopped crying completely, and was smiling like usual. He was satisfied with his efforts.

"Ludwig likes beer more than wine." Feli said simply.

"Of course- he would wouldn't he?" Lovino said, letting his normal dry, rude personality take over again. "What an asshole. We're going to give him wine anyways; he'll have plenty of beer in Germany. He needs to experience some Italian class; we can't let that country turn him into even more of a caveman."

His younger brother laughed, and began chattering aimlessly again, and Lovino went back to the couch and continued writing. He had successfully cheered Feliciano up, and though it wasn't with nearly as much kindness and love as his mother would have used, it worked nevertheless. He'd take it as a victory.

* * *

 ** _"Mon amie"-_ My friend**

 ** _"Oh mon Dieu" -_ Oh my God**

 ** _"Oh merde"_ \- Oh Shit**

 **Be advised friends, I'm 100% relying on google translate for anything that isn't English, so my French/Spanish/whatever else I might include will probably be less than the best.**


	2. Chapter 2

It was both a blessing and a curse that Antonio began his work in the garden at the same time Lovino went on his morning walk. He was bitter that this man interrupted his brief moment of peace, always with a smile or a joke. Always in manner that made it impossible for him to stay angry.

However when the weekend came around he'd promised himself an extra-long walk, since Antonio wouldn't be working and he could finally be alone. He found it just as peaceful as it used to be, but couldn't completely shove the feeling of disappointment away. It was strangely quiet without Antonio's calming voice and pleasant conversations. It seemed that even the crickets had nothing to say.

When Monday arrived Lovino had to convince himself that he was definitely not excited to go on his morning walk, at least, no more excited than usual. He was almost successful, striding over to his bench without even offering the Spaniard a glance.

Lovino's eyes scanned the garden. He saw the flowerbeds, which consisted of a wide variety of tulips, snap dragons, forget-me-nots, daffodils, sunflowers and several others he couldn't name. They nearly encompassed the quaint little pond his father had built; only a narrow cobblestone path penetrated the barrier that the flowers set. He remembered how often he and Feliciano were yelled at when they played in that area, constantly being warned not to trample the flowers and to stay on the path. It became such an annoyance that they avoided the pond altogether.

The larger half of the yard housed produce. One side was dedicated to a variety of tomatoes, peppers, squash, cucumbers, and pumpkins, each row of plants separated by a worn dirt path. Closer to the porch was the fruit, rows upon rows of raspberries were present, as well as a few blueberry bushes, and in the far corner was a strawberry patch. A cherry tree was also near the porch, though it was strategically planted away from the other produce in an effort to conserve sunlight.

The fence was perhaps his favorite part of the garden. It was lined completely by white rose bushes. It offered a beautiful, consistent trap for anyone who chose to climb their fence- that was what his father would say anyways. He smiled at the memory.

Taking a seat, he was surprised when only few minutes passed before he heard Antonio ask, "Hey Mr. Vargas?"

He heaved a sigh, trying his best to look exasperated. "What is it Antonio?"

To his surprise, the Spaniard didn't speak with his usual light-hearted tone.

"I've been looking at it since I got here, and I've done everything I can." Antonio hung his head, gesturing to the plant in front of him. "I think this rose bush is dead."

Lovino turned, and felt his heart fall a little when he realized where Antonio was standing.

"Is that so?"

The gardener nodded solemnly. "Come here."

Lovino stood, dreading the inevitable moment that was to come. It felt like an eternity before he made it to Antonio. He stood by the fence, where roses graced the yard on all sides.

The rest of the plants were meager at best, but still living. This one however, didn't show a single leaf, it branches were gray and brittle. He felt his hands begin to shake with anger.

"I can replace it, if you want." Antonio suggested.

At those words Lovino cursed, rubbing his forehead. "God, I'm so fucking stupid."

"It's alright Mr. Vargas-" the gardener began, but was soon cut off.

"No it's not," He said, feeling anger blossom in his chest. He wanted to scream, to kick a hole in the fence, to tear down the whole damn garden.

"Why not?"

The question made Lovino realize how ridiculous he must look to Antonio, losing his shit over a simple plant.

But that's just it, it wasn't.

All the roses that circled the yard were white, just like the ones his mother would occasionally press and dry. They were the most beautiful of all roses- she had told him, except for one other type.

There was only one bush in the yard that was completely red, and it was the one he had planted with his mother all those years ago, back before Feliciano had met his German friend, back when his mom was alive and well, and his dad was still around to take a picture.

His hands shook. He had walked in that garden every morning for years, how had he not noticed that the plant was dying? How on earth did he miss it?

"Mr. Vargas," the Spaniard's voice drew him out of his thoughts. Antonio stared at the bush, his green eyes half lidded. "I can tell that these roses meant something to you. I wish I could save them but I-"

"No," Lovino interrupted, feeling himself start to calm down, he didn't want the gardener to see him like this. "It's alright Antonio. It's not your fault."

His words didn't seem to lessen the Spaniard's worry. "Would you like me to remove them?"

"No." He said, "I'll deal with it eventually."

"Understood." Antonio said, and Lovino expected him to turn away and get back to work, but instead he remained there, his gaze fixed on the bush.

"What?" Lovino asked, mentally wincing. He hadn't meant it to sound so harsh.

"It's not your fault either." Antonio said, nodding at the dead plant.

He grunted. "Yes it is. Maybe if I wasn't such a fucking idiot I would have noticed it."

"Can I say what I think?"

"No." At this time all Lovino really wanted to do was go back inside, curl up under his covers and go to sleep. He didn't want to have to look at the rose bush for one more second; he didn't want to hear what this Spaniard had to say.

"I'm going to anyways." He said, and before Lovino could respond he continued, "I think you've been busy for years, extremely busy, and I think you've been tired, and I think you honestly couldn't help it."

He let the words settle like dust on a shelf. His arms felt heavy as he wrapped them around himself. God- he was tired wasn't he? He'd worked every day of his life, working two jobs, sometimes three, just to pay for the classes he'd need to be a journalist. He couldn't remember his last sick day, let alone a vacation. When his mother died and he was barely eighteen, he was left alone with a large house, an inheritance, a fifteen year old brother and a garden that stretched for an acre. He had only gotten his diploma a few weeks before.

When he decided he wanted to go national, he pushed himself to his limits. He always worked at least seventy hours a week, barely slept, barely ate, and was constantly practicing his writing and reporting. His job was the only thing he thought about from sunrise to sunset.

But it was still only dawn, he noted, coming out of his haze. "I am tired Antonio."

Lovino felt a hand on his shoulder, and immediately pulled away. He felt terrible however, when he saw the look of hurt on the gardener's face.

"Sorry." He said, glancing away. "I'm sorry." He repeated, it was the only thing he could do.

"You don't like being touched?" Antonio asked. The question was simple enough, but even after he'd searched the far corners of his mind Lovino couldn't find a definite answer.

"No, I don't think it's that." He said slowly. "I just… don't get touched very often."

"I'll give you fair warning next time." The Spaniard said, and Lovino nodded.

"That's probably for the best."

* * *

Lovino decided to ask Francis for more information on his gardener. Well, it's not like Antonio was on his mind or anything, it just sort of came up in conversation while they were waiting for their dinner. That's what he told himself, anyways.

"So er…" he paused, staring at his hands which sat folded on the table. He'd never exactly initiated a conversation with his agent beyond the usual 'hey fuck-face'.

"How do you know Antonio?"

Francis looked up from his phone, and for a moment just stared at him in confusion, and then a smile broke across his face.

"Antonio was one of my best friends in high school." He said, putting his phone down and lacing his fingers together. "He and Gilbert and I met in Latin class. We were all seated next to each other. Gilbert wasn't supposed to be there, it was only a fall back since there were no open spots in the German language course. Naturally that meant that he just fucked around the entire time."

Lovino nodded, wondering just how old Francis was. It had only just occurred to him that he'd never asked Antonio his age.

"Gilbert was a great guy." Francis continued, his eyes growing misty. This surprised him, and with an awkward, fumbling tone he asked;

"What happened to Gilbert?"

The corner of Francis's lip tugged upwards as he took a napkin and dabbed at his eyes. " _Excusez-moi,_ I'm such a baby." He said, heaving a heavy sigh before continuing.

"Gilbert was always kind of an asshole. He did whatever he wanted and didn't care about what anyone else thought. I think that's why we were drawn to him. I had a huge ego, and I know what you're going to say. 'Had?'"

Lovino blinked, "No, not really."

Francis grunted. "Don't lie. Anyways, if you think I'm an egotistical narcissist now, you should have seen me in high school. My parents immigrated here before I was born, so I was raised in French culture. I'm saying all stereotypes are true, but in terms of the French, the majority of them are." he shrugged, a wry smile on his face.

"I put myself on a golden platter and looked down my nose at everyone else. Nobody really talked to me, and if they did it was with backhanded compliments. But you know what Gilbert said when he first saw me?"

"What?"

The blond laughed softly, "I walked in and sat down next to him, and the first thing out of his mouth was 'You've got something in your teeth.' And I didn't, of course, but he got some satisfaction out of making me check. Nobody had ever talked to me like that, or had made me question myself so quickly. Then Antonio came and sat behind us,"

Lovino sat up a little straighter, not willing to admit that he had been hoping that the subject of his gardener would come up.

By now the food had arrived, but neither seemed especially eager to dig in, as Francis was too engrossed with his story and Lovino couldn't help but sit and absorb every word of it. He wondered why on earth it even meant that much to him.

"You've got to understand, Antonio was nothing like he is now. He was a scrawny, quiet kid who was jumpy around anyone he met. It took months to get him to warm up to us. It was only when we got to know him better that he told us his family was devout Catholics. They went to church every Sunday, and every weekend he was at a party for some cousin who'd been baptized or had received first communion or something like that. He always wore a crucifix."

"Not anymore." Lovino said absentmindedly, wondering why he'd even bothered to notice such a thing.

Francis stared at him for a long moment, and Lovino looked away, embarrassed. Finally the blond continued.

"Once we found out he and his family were catholic, Gilbert and I put two and two together and everything made sense."

"What do you mean?" Lovino asked.

"We started to get why he didn't want to be around people." He said, "The fact that he could hardly hold a conversation with a male, and usually ended up upset after interacting with one was a big cue."

It clicked, and Lovino felt his heart speed up. He didn't dare think about the concept until now. It was easier to just shove Antonio, and thoughts related to him on the back burner. "You mean…"

"Antonio is gay." Francis said with a nod. "He always was, but he hid it for a long time. He was worried about what his family would think or say, and considering how much faith he had in his religion, he probably honestly thought that there was something wrong with him."

Something clenched in Lovino's chest. He'd never really explored his sexuality in high school, but he knew from a young age that he didn't exclusively like girls. Luckily, his parents had been out of his life for years when he came to terms with it. The thought that someone like Antonio had suffered from his identity made him hurt a little. He didn't want to think what it would be like.

"So you can imagine how much he tried to avoid us." Francis continued. "Always one word answers, occasionally glares. I don't think he was necessary attracted to either of us- though who could blame him, you've seen _moi_ \- he was just afraid that he would be. It took an entire year of bugging him every single day, but finally we got him to move on to two sentence responses, and then he started instigated conversations with us, and proceeded to make jokes and join in on our pranks. By the time summer came around none of us really knew what happened, we were just best friends."

The blond smiled again, though his eyes were far away. "When Gilbert and I came to the conclusion that Antonio was gay, we didn't say anything. We figured that he'd come out on his own. It took three years, and then suddenly, on the night of graduation, he showed up on my doorstep in tears. He'd just come out to his parents and they weren't exactly happy with it."

"They didn't…." Lovino said quietly. To his dismay Francis nodded in response.

"They kicked him out." he said. "So we sort of just threw our things together and got an apartment. From that point on Antonio became more comfortable with himself. He still had problems with his family but they eventually came to the conclusion that they wouldn't discuss it, and things more or less went back to normal for him."

Lovino looked down. He marveled that someone as sweet and optimistic as Antonio had suffered like that, and at the same time he was angry.

There was nothing to do for it now, he thought. At least Antonio had recovered from the ordeal. He vaguely wondered just how much his two friends had to do with that.

Suddenly a thought struck him. "Francis," he started, and nearly stopped himself. But then he thought better of it, this was Francis after all, if anyone would be offended by Lovino's question, it wouldn't be him. "Are you gay?"

" _Moi_?" he asked, reaching for his lemonade. "No, no, no. I don't think I can really put myself under a category. There are no restrictions to love, at least in my mind."

Lovino nodded, he had expected the Frenchman to say something like that.

"Now Gilbert on the other hand, was the most stereotypical heterosexual, macho, lady's man in the entire world. At least, that's what he told himself." Francis shook his head, smiling . "He partied constantly, and the number of one night stands was enough to make Antonio and I consider kicking him out. But then out of the blue, it all stopped. We thought something was wrong with him for the longest time, but as it turned out he'd met someone."

By now Lovino had begun to pick at his food before it got cold, but he was still listening intently to what Francis said.

"She was probably the only woman who could have successfully dated Gilbert. Strong and fiery and passionate, she didn't take shit from anyone, and as I'm sure you guessed, Gilbert was madly in love with her. Though the one night stands had stopped, we still considered kicking him out because he simply wouldn't shut up about her."

Suddenly Francis grew quiet, and his gaze lost some of its usual shine. "He got her a ring. He was going to propose to her and everything. God Lovi- I don't think I've seen anyone as excited about marriage as he was."

Lovino didn't say anything, though he had stopped touching his food. He didn't like where this story was heading, but he let it go by regardless.

Francis took a long, shaky breath, and then continued.

"Gilbert was always kind of a jackass. Everyone who met him knew that. One night the three of us had just gone to get takeout. We were stopped at an intersection, and then a red Camaro pulled up beside us. I couldn't see who was inside, but whoever it was revved their engine, and of course Gilbert had to have the last word, so he revved his in return. The second the light turned green they were off, racing each other down the highway at ninety miles an hour."

Lovino swallowed the lump in his throat. He could guess where this was going.

"There was a hill and…" Francis paused for a few moments to regain his composure. "A semi-truck had fallen on its side. The guy in the Camaro managed to slow down a bit, but we didn't have good breaks." He then laughed as a tear left his eye. "We always told Gilbert he needed to get a new car; it'd broken down on him several times already. He'd just say that it worked perfectly fine, but obviously he was wrong."

Lovino's breath hitched. "What happened?" he asked hesitantly.

"We hit it." Francis said. "Gilbert got pinned down in his seat, and he might have been okay if the Camaro had managed to stop. It didn't though."

Lovino began to feel ill.

"We were a little luckier." The Frenchman continued. "We were thrown from the car. I broke my neck and a few ribs. It only took six months or so to get back into good condition. Antonio broke some ribs as well, and skidded so far down the road that I was surprised there was still skin on his back. He nearly bit off his tongue, too. He recovered quickly, though. He always does."

He shuddered. "God, I'm so sorry. That must have been terrible."

" _Oui_ , it was." Francis said with a nod. "But after at Gilbert's funeral Antonio and I came to the conclusion that he wouldn't have wanted us to mope about it. We let ourselves wallow in it for a few months of course, but managed to get back on our feet after that. At some point we separated, I went off to school while Antonio stayed here. When I came back to be your agent, I found him sitting in the same bar we visited when we were younger." He then smoothed down the table cloth, finally meeting Lovino's eyes as he did so. "And there you have it, our tragic backstory. Sorry for rambling, I know it's heavy stuff."

"No, it's alright." Lovino said, and though he tried to fight it, his loving side won him over. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Francis scratched his chin in concentration before saying. "You could give me Feliciano's phone number."

"Alright, dinner break is over."

* * *

Feliciano was noticeably quiet that week, and Lovino was well aware as to why. His younger brother no longer brought him breakfast with a grin and a cheesy joke, he no longer sang loudly and off key in the shower, and he no longer left the radio on late at night.

He was worried about him, but believed that it was just a phase. Ludwig would leave, he would sulk for a month or two, and then things would go back to normal. Until then, whatever was needed to keep Feliciano's spirits up, he'd permit.

Even if that meant letting that potato bastard come over nearly every day that week.

Well, it wasn't every day, only three, but they felt like the German's presence was constant. It brought back memories of when he was young and he'd watch them play from afar, always the third wheel. This really was no different.

But this time- he thought as he watched Feliciano search through the messy drawer of movies trying to find something to watch, he and Ludwig sitting on opposite sides of the couch- this time he wouldn't say anything.

Feliciano settled for some old horror flick, and Lovino left twenty minutes in. He didn't feel the need to be subject to his younger brother's dramatic screams of fear from jump scares and what was obviously fake blood.

He didn't know what drew him to the garden, he'd already gone on his morning walk a few hours ago, but by the time he remembered it he was already standing outside, his feet subject to the freshly cut grass that would surely leave a green stain on his sandals. He began strolling regardless.

When he saw a head of messy brown hair peeking up above his peppers, Lovino didn't hesitate to walk over. He could do with a joke and a warm smile right about now, anything to make him feel less alienated by his brother.

But when he rounded the line of plants, he saw that Antonio sat hunched over his knees, his head buried in his arms.

Lovino was bounding over before he could even think.

"Antonio!" he said, relieved when the Spaniard started and looked up at him. He felt his heart beat slow a bit. "Are you alright?"

The gardener rubbed a hand over one of his green eyes. "I'm fine." He said softly, getting to his feet. "Sorry, I just needed to rest for a moment."

"It's hot out here." Lovino said lamely, eyes drifting from his sunburned cheeks to his shirt that he had sweated through.

"Holy shit," Antonio said, "You do news _and_ weather?"

"No need to be a smartass." He said, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I was going to invite you to come inside for a drink, but I think I'll just fire you for sleeping on the job instead."

When his words were met with silence, Lovino looked back at the Spaniard, only to see that he was staring at the ground, unreadable.

"I'm joking." He said quickly, "God Antonio, I'm joking."

To his relief, the gardener looked up and flashed him a grin. "I like lemon in my water."

Lovino sighed and went inside, a gentle sense of peace settling over him at the sound of Antonio's footsteps behind him.

They were fresh out of lemon, but they did have lemonade, which Antonio took without complaint. They settled for simply standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counters as they listened to the distant sounds of Feliciano's movie.

"That sounds like 'Saw'." Antonio said, nodding in the general direction of the living room.

"I have no idea what it is." Lovino said. "I don't really enjoy being around Feli when he watches horror movies, not to mention that German bastard is hanging around him."

"Oh, his boyfriend's here?" Antonio asked peeking out the doorway. Lovino put down his lemonade.

"Boyfriend?"

"I saw them making out in the garden the other night. I came back to grab something and nearly walked into them. It was-" Antonio paused, his eyes widening as he met Lovino's gaze. "Shit."

"They were what?" he asked, his voice low. It took everything in him not to tear out of the room and kick that German's ass out of the house that very moment.

The Spaniard set his lemonade on the counter behind him, tugging at his shirt collar. "I- you didn't know? Shit. I shouldn't have-"

But by now Lovino couldn't help it; he was marching out of the kitchen and nearly reached the living room before Antonio appeared in front of him, hands up in a defensive manner.

"Don't go in there."

"Don't tell me what to fucking do." Lovino said, already blind with rage. That bastard had laid his hands on Feliciano, and that was all he needed to know to justify hurting him. He tried to get around Antonio, but the Spaniard was one step ahead, blocking his path no matter which way he tried.

"Mr. Vargas just let them be." He said, green eyes pleading. "They're teenagers in love. Ludwig's leaving in a few days isn't he? Just let it happen. It'll end soon enough."

"Who the hell asked for your opinion?" Lovino grumbled. "You're not a part of my family."

"I know." Antonio responded. "I'm stepping out of bounds, I'm aware, but what I saw the other night…" he trailed off, and Lovino felt some of his initial rage start to ebb away.

"What did you see the other night?"

The gardener smiled gently. "I've only known your family for a few months, but I know what I saw. If you separate Feliciano from Ludwig now, he wouldn't forgive you."

Lovino let out a breath. "He's just a kid."

"And so are you."

He looked up, trying to muster a response, but Antonio beat him too it.

"You're only twenty. You're in your prime; you should be out drinking with friends, you should be traveling and reading books and having a good time. You don't have to force this responsibility on yourself."

Lovino was silent. Antonio's words lingered in his mind, though he tried to convince himself that he was wrong, that this sort of responsibility was a part of life, that he simply _had_ to take care of Feliciano. He did, right?

The silence dragged on for a few more moments before Antonio spoke again. "Mr. Vargas-"

"Lovino." He interrupted him, "Call me Lovino. We might as well strip away any other barriers in this relationship."

For some reason, when Antonio smiled again, it made whatever anger was left in him melt away.

"You can call me Toni then."

Lovino folded his arms. "Do you prefer Toni?"

He shrugged. "More or less."

"Then I'll stick with Antonio." He said, suppressing a grin as the Spaniard in front of him gave an exaggerated frown. "I wouldn't want you to be too comfortable."

* * *

Lovino couldn't help but sigh as he sat on the courthouse steps. His article had done fantastic, it was shared thousands of times online and he had even been invited to interview with a few of their sister stations. He was- as Francis said- 'The Face of the Media' with his coverage of the case.

But despite all of the fame and recognition he was receiving, Lovino wished he had never covered the case in the first place, because today it didn't matter if he was a world renowned journalist, it didn't matter how many companies wanted to hire him, or how much he was getting paid. All that mattered was that a man had walked away from murder.

The world would be shocked. The station would be getting thousands of calls and emails. He'd have to be available to report for the next eight hours, sending his live footage to stations across the country. He'd probably be called in early tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. He'd get a huge bonus, and maybe even a promotion, and he'd go back to living off of caffeine and junk food until Francis forced him to do otherwise. It would last for a month, and then things would settle down.

He wasn't ready for it.

The man was named Nikolas Jonsi, and he had been caught in the act of brutal murder of a family in their LA home. Murder was nothing new to the city, the catch however, was that this wasn't just any family. It was a state senator, his wife, and their three kids, none of which had made it to high school.

It was heartbreaking enough as it was, that added with the home surveillance video and copious amounts of physical and circumstantial evidence, the world expected him to be sent to jail immediately. There was no hope for the killer.

But today that had all been proven wrong.

Jonsi's lawyer had pleaded insanity, and they had won. He'd be sent to some remote psychiatric hospital for God knew how long.

By now it was midnight. Francis had just taken his leave, and his camerawoman Elizabeta sat on the step below him, resting her feet on her collapsed tripod and holding the camera lazily in her lap. She'd probably doze off soon, and he wouldn't blame her. He still had three other stations to report to. That would take two hours, at the very least.

He absent mindedly scrolled through his phone. He was not surprised when he saw his article, amongst others, plastering social media. He rubbed his eyes. Dear God, he just wanted to go to bed.

* * *

It was four in the morning when Antonio got to work. He supposed it could have waited until six, or even seven, but today was supposed to be record heat, so he decided to get as much done as he could before dying of heat stroke. He unlocked the side gate and entered the impressive back yard that was his career.

It was huge, overgrown, and definitely in need of work. He was excited to make it his masterpiece.

He set down his duffel bag and pulled out the usual, gloves, a shovel, shears, and he was reaching for his water bottle when he heard a noise behind him.

He turned sharply. The crime rates in this city were enough to make anyone a little jumpy, and he was no exception. He heard footsteps just on the other side of the fence, and as they grew closer he felt his grip tighten on the shears.

Antonio steeled himself as he heard the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping against the wood, as whoever it was began to climb the fence. He darted between bushes for some sort of cover.

A hand appeared above the wooden wall, followed by an arm that tried to hoist the rest of the body over. The entire scene was accompanied by grunts and curses, and ended with someone tumbling gracefully over and hitting the ground hard.

"Goddammit." Antonio heard the unmistakable grumpy voice that he'd come to find endearing and felt his tensions dissipate.

Lovino hissed as he tried to get up. "Fuck- Jesus-"

Antonio stood, no longer able to suppress his urge to laugh. "I never thought I 'd hear those words in that sequence."

The reporter jumped at his voice, and then shot him a glare. "Nice to see you too, bastard." He said, visibly wincing as he tried to sit up, swearing like a sailor the entire time. It was only then that the Spaniard realized what exactly Lovino had fallen into.

"Shit." He said, running over to him. Lovino had several thorns sticking out from his clothes and hair, and more painfully his skin.

"Let me help you." Antonio said, reaching out to him. Lovino immediately flinched, and then he remembered.

"Is it alright if I touch you?"

The younger man seemed to consider it, his brow furrowed for a few moments before he nodded, and Antonio gingerly placed a hand on his waist. He waited for Lovino to protest, and when he didn't Antonio gently pushed, prompting him to his feet. He complied, though he swore heavily under his breath.

The Spaniard tried to hide the joy he took from the Lovino allowing him to help. As they made their way inside and to the kitchen table, he began to realize that it was the first time he'd been that close to Lovino, and the first time he'd touched him without the younger man fighting him away.

Lovino stood still, as if waiting for instruction. His face was flushed, and his swearing had diminished somewhat.

"Do you have a first aid kit?" Antonio asked, and when the reporter pointed to the drawer by the fridge he began to search.

"Take off your shirt and stand over there."

"What?" Lovino asked, his face now even more flushed than it had been.

"We need to get those thorns out of you." He said, finding the first aid kit and digging through it.

"I can do it myself." He said.

Antonio shook his head. "Yeah, have fun getting the ones out of your back then."

Lovino huffed and began to unbutton his shirt, wincing with every movement. Finally Antonio found what he was looking for, and he stopped by the sink to run a washcloth under some warm water before he made his way to where the younger man currently stood by the table. He was absolutely rigid, his face red and his eyes looking at anywhere but him.

"Alright," he began; tweezers in hand, but he trailed off. Lovino looked as he would have imagined, lithe, pale, and fit. His skin had reddened from the fall, and was obviously irritated in some of the parts that were more affected by the roses. He gulped when he realized exactly how many thorns were in him. It would be a long, painful night.

* * *

"Can I ask what you were doing jumping fences at four in the morning?" The Spaniard asked as he began to dig at what he hoped was the final thorn. The rest of Lovino's back was littered with marks from where he'd been pricked by the roses, and he hadn't even gotten to his chest, though Antonio was sure the younger man wouldn't allow him to do so anyways.

"The Jonsi case wrapped up last night." Lovino said; his voice low. It was nearly eight now. He wondered how long it would take for Lovino to go off on him, since he could tell the man was stressed and in pain, but the verbal abuse never came. His questions were answered with quiet, simple sentences that occasionally turned into rambling.

"I saw that." Antonio said. "But that was over by midday yesterday, why did it take you so long to get home?"

Lovino sighed, the movement forcing Antonio to pause to avoid sticking him with the tweezers.

"Now that I'm national everybody wants me to report for them. It's not usually a big deal to do a quick live shot or send over a few minutes of video, but this case was the most important one America had seen in years. All of the major stations were on standby for my live report, and time zones are a little different in California than they are in New York. Not to mention I was wise enough to leave my keys on the kitchen counter"

Antonio whistled, "I think you've learned your lesson. You don't have work until five right?" he offered, trying to stay positive. "Just go to bed until then."

"I would," Lovino said, "If you would hurry the fuck up."

Antonio sighed quietly. There it was. He was surprised it had taken Lovino this long to bitch him out.

"Hey bastard?" Lovino asked, glancing back at him with weary, red rimmed eyes. His heart hurt a bit at the sight. He must have been exhausted.

"Yes, Lovino?"

"Do you like me?"

The question caught him off guard but he answered nevertheless.

"Yes."

"Hm." Lovino looked down at his hands. "In what way?"

Antonio paused, glancing up at the reporter. Was he running a fever? He'd never asked him anything like that before. In fact, he rarely showed interest in the Spaniard at all.

He didn't allow himself to think about the implications of what he had asked. There was no way- _none-_ that Lovino would think of him like that. No one had ever thought of him like that. Ever since he'd realized what… who he was, there was a nagging voice in the back of his mind that told him no one would consider him anything beyond a friend, and so far it'd been right.

"What do you mean?

The man in front of him huffed in what seemed to be a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. "Do you like me as a friend? Or do you like me because I'm your boss?"

Antonio blinked for a few moments. Right- of course those were the only two options. This lovely, sarcastic yet caring man wouldn't view him as anything more than a friend. He was glad that he came to that conclusion quickly, he didn't want to think about the possibilities.

"We're friends, Lovino." He said, finally pulling that goddamn thorn out. He put it on the table with the others.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Antonio said, not sure if he liked the way the word fell out of his mouth. "Why do you ask?"

He shrugged. "I didn't think I had any friends."

The gardener gazed at him. Lovino was a grouch, and could definitely be intimidating, but Francis was right. It was all an act, one that Antonio had seen through from the very start. He could tell by the way Lovino acted with Feliciano, and by the way he always paused after saying something less than kind. He didn't mean a single word of it. Antonio only wondered how on earth nobody could see that. He took the cloth and gently dabbed at the now bloody hole the thorn had left. Lovino hissed, but didn't protest.

"Are you lonely?" he didn't realize he'd asked the question out loud, and mentally hit himself when he did.

"Yes." Lovino said quietly. Antonio reached for the antibiotic ointment and began to tenderly smooth it over any openings the thorns had left. He wondered briefly why the Italian's ears turned red as he did this.

"You've got me." Antonio said simply. "That counts for something."

"Yeah," Lovino said, glancing back at him. It was then that he noticed the smallest traces of a smile on the man's face, and Antonio felt his face heat up. His thoughts were interrupted by the Lovino's voice.

"What are you staring at?"

Antonio offered him his signature grin. "Nothing, Lovi."

Lovino's ears grew even redder and his eyebrows furrowed. "Who said you could call me Lovi?"

Antonio shrugged. "Is that alright with you?"

"Yes."

* * *

 **" _Excusez-moi"_ -Pardon me**

 ** _"Oui" -_ Yes**

 ** _"Moi" -_ Me**

 **Though these were pretty self explanatory, better to be safe than sorry.**

 **I had to make our criminal an OC, since I honestly love all of the Hetalia characters too much to choose one of them to be evil.**


	3. Chapter 3

Lovino wondered if it would be prudent to have Feliciano start bringing out two plates of breakfast. Every morning now he would come to the garden and sit on the bench, and Antonio would slowly work his way over to him, which meant a ten to fifteen minute wait depending on where he stood in the yard at the time. One day it took an entire half hour, and by the time Antonio approached the bench, pulling off his leather gloves and taking a seat, Lovino had nearly fallen asleep.

"Do you ever think about quitting your job?" the gardener asked him out of the blue one day. He let his mind sit still for a moment. No- he'd never considered the possibility. For the longest time national television was his dream, and now it was the only reason he got up in the morning. There were no other options.

"No." he said, glancing at the Spaniard. Due to the cool morning air and lack of sun he was still relatively clean and not nearly as exhausted and sweat drenched as he would be a few hours later. He still couldn't decide which he liked more, the warm, raw sunlight highlighting his messy head of hair and making his emerald eyes shine, or the quiet, bluish haze that hung over him as if he were a dream.

"I can't imagine having your job." Antonio said, stretching his arms above his head. "Staying up as late as you do, being busy constantly, God- how do you manage?"

Lovino shrugged. "It's all I've ever done. I don't think I know how to _not_ work."

Antonio shook his head, scratching his chin. This of course caused him to smear mud there, but Lovino couldn't bring himself to point it out. "It's not the work I'm opposed to; it's just the way you do it. It takes over your life. But what do I know? I'm sure you wouldn't be doing it if you didn't love it."

By now Lovino was feeling uncomfortable. He didn't think he could handle having a discussion about the purpose of his work, because while it started out as a love for writing and a self-righteous need to inform the world, it was only a paycheck now. An empty path that he'd been walking since the start- he knew he wouldn't find happiness on it. At least, he had yet to find any thus far.

"What about you?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "Why did you choose to be a gardener?"

Antonio smiled, his eyes softening. He made a wide sweeping gesture with his hand at the garden, "This. I wanted this. Green grass, warm air, dirt in my fingernails, I wanted all of it." He glanced at Lovino briefly. "I don't think you'll understand, but ever since I was a kid I knew I was different. I didn't like school. The idea of a desk job scared me shitless."

He paused, inhaling deeply. "The only place I was happy was in the fields, with a shovel in my hand and callouses on my fingers. I loved tending to things, watching them grow and knowing that it wouldn't have happened without me."

The only thing Lovino could do was stare at him. In all of his life, he'd never met someone like Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and that was becoming clearer with every passing moment.

"I'm not stupid." Antonio said, glancing his way. "And I'm not lazy."

"I never said you were." Lovino said quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea.

The Spaniard smiled, rubbing his hands together. "No, you didn't." he said, meeting his gaze. "But a lot of people did. I had potential, and for a while I chased it. I did my homework and I never cut class, I immersed myself in my education for years, but then I met Francis and Gilbert, and they helped me to realize what I wanted," He laughed to himself, "among other things."

Lovino wondered if he should tell Antonio what he'd heard of his past, but his thoughts were interrupted by the Spaniard's words.

"The prospect of money and fame- while exciting- was never something I felt the need to reach. I didn't want a normal nine to five job; I didn't care about a steady income."

Antonio leaned down and plucked a piece of grass, he then tied it into a knot, "I wanted this. I wanted to be in my element. I wanted to be happy. So I did that. I'm not well known, and I don't have much money to my name, but I'm at peace with where I am, and that's all that I want."

That fluttering feeling was back. A few months ago, he would've condemned the Spaniard for his actions, he'd certainly think of him as lazy and wasted potential, but on that day, as dawn broke over the hills and the sunrise illuminated his magnificent garden, Lovino couldn't do anything but sit, helplessly watching the man before him as he challenged all that he thought was true.

"Here." Antonio said, holding out the piece of grass that still had a knot in it. Lovino took it, not quite sure of what to do. The Spaniard gently guided his hands so that he held the blade taught between them.

"Now pull."

Still not knowing why, Lovino pulled. The grass split in half, though the knot stayed.

"That means someone's thinking of you." Antonio said.

"I'm going to need a scientific source." Lovino said, trying not to crack a grin. Antonio did it in his stead.

"I'm referencing the research of my grandfather, the greatest scientist who's ever lived. Now find a bigger piece of grass, I'll teach you how to whistle."

* * *

Looking back on it, Lovino probably should have taken that Friday off.

However, he was completely swamped. With Nikolas Jonsi being transferred to a psychiatric hospital that day, as well as requests from several stations for copies of his work, he couldn't possibly see a way around it, so in the end he simply bought some ingredients for Feliciano's dinner and left them on the kitchen counter. He went to work early that day. With Ludwig leaving Feliciano had been a mess and he didn't know how many more meltdowns he could remedy before he had one of his own.

When he arrived home that night, exhausted and ready to shower and sleep, he had completely forgotten that the German would be there for dinner. This of course brought on quite the surprise when Lovino opened the front door only to find his brother and Ludwig Beilschmidt with their arms around each other, sharing a heated kiss. They broke away immediately once they noticed his presence, Feliciano pulling back almost violently. He looked as if he were about to dash out of the house with fear.

It might have been because he was too tired to care, it might have been because of Antonio's pleading words, but Lovino couldn't bring himself to be angry. He pitied Feliciano and his circumstance, a hormonal teenager about to lose his life-long friend, and more recently, lover. He had a right to be a mess. Lovino shook his head. Feliciano loved so easily and freely, he supposed he should have expected something like this.

Ludwig's sky blue eyes were wide, his face was flushed, and his mouth continued in an endless circle of opening slightly, and then shutting forcefully, obviously unable to formulate a coherent thought.

"Lovi…" Feliciano broken voice filled the air. "Please Lovi, don't be mad. I was going to tell you but I..." he swallowed, tears in his eyes. "I just…"

Lovino rubbed his temples. All he wanted to do was sleep.

"Just don't make a lot of noise." He said. "There's a gas station a few blocks down where you could get condoms, so make that trip first."

Feliciano blinked at him, his mouth wide open. "What?"

He wanted to laugh. Seeing his brother's reaction was almost as satisfying as throwing Ludwig out would have been. "We'll talk later Feli." He said, and then pointed his attention at Ludwig. "Your flight leaves first thing tomorrow morning, right?"

Ludwig paused, the look of confusion still plastered on his face. "Yes."

Lovino nodded. "Good. Now don't fucking miss it."

* * *

Antonio spent a good twenty minutes staring at the dead rose bush in Lovino's garden. It was by all means dead, and an eyesore compared to the steadily improving plants around it. He wondered how it had come to mean so much to Lovino, and why he had been so upset to find out it had died.

He ran a hand through his hair as he surveyed the rest of the yard. Everything had been watered, tended to, and otherwise taken care of for the day, and he still had an hour to go before he was technically off the clock. He turned back to the bush, and steeling his resolve, he strode into the house with the intentions of finding Feliciano Vargas.

He didn't have to go far. The Italian was sitting on the kitchen floor with his head in his hands. Worry flashed through Antonio's mind before he remembered who had left just a few days previously.

"Are you alright Feli?" he asked delicately. The younger of the Vargas brothers looked up at him wearily, his face pale and his eyes rimmed red.

"Yeah, just your average bout of teenage angst, no need to worry." He said, offering the Spaniard a small, sad grin.

"How was your dinner?" he asked, leaning against the counter. He had been overjoyed when he convinced Lovino to not interfere with his brother's relationship. He recalled the night he saw them in the garden, Feliciano had his face buried in the crook of Ludwig's neck, obviously crying, whilst the German simply ran his hand through the smaller man's hair absent mindedly. The tears had dissolved into soft whispers, and then to kisses. It made Antonio's heart ache to see someone as kind and as good as Feliciano hurting so much. When he'd interrupted them, the Italian immediately began to panic, and practically begged the gardener to keep quiet. If not for his lack of forethought he might have been able to actually do it.

"The dinner went better than expected." The Italian said, getting to his feet. "Minus the fact that Lovi walked in on us kissing, but he didn't kick Ludwig out, he didn't even yell. Can you believe that?"

Antonio's eyebrows shot up. "No, I can't. What did he say then?"

Feliciano moved around him to grab a cup, and then proceeded to open the fridge and stare aimlessly at its contents.

"He just told us to be quiet, and then went to bed."

"He didn't even want to talk to you about it?"

Feliciano laughed. "Oh trust me, he did. The next morning was just hours of questioning. He threatened to take me in to get tested, even though we didn't-" he paused, blushing. "We didn't… well you know." He cleared his throat. "Anyways, he was civil about the whole thing. I honestly expected him to kill one of us."

The Spaniard chuckled. "Your brother is so unpredictable."

Feliciano smiled. "Lovino can be scary, but beneath it all he's much more of a sap than you might think."

Antonio fingered the collar of his T-shirt. "Feli, I had a question for you. About Lovino…"

"Oh yeah?" he asked, reaching in to the refrigerator and shuffling through the contents on the first shelf, and then finally settling for grape juice. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know how much you know about it." Antonio said, "But the other day he found out that one of the rose bushes that lined the fence had died. He was devastated, I don't think I've ever seen him show that much emotion."

Feliciano paused amidst pouring his grape juice. "Was it on the left side of the yard?"

"Yes." Antonio answered, hopeful that Feliciano might be able to give him more information. "What makes it so special?"

He capped the jug and put it back in the fridge. "If I remember correctly, back when we were younger and didn't have much money our mother bought us seeds for one of our birthdays. I got to plant sunflowers, while Lovino got to plant a rose bush." He sipped his juice, eyes not meeting Antonio's. "Our dad walked out on us a little while after that, and our mom just died a few years ago. It's probably the last good memory he had of the two of them."

Feliciano's voice became a whisper. "I know that it's mine, at least."

"Do you think…" Antonio paused, his mouth had gotten ahead of him, he didn't know where he was going with this sentence, but he went nevertheless. "Do you think if I planted a new rose bush there he'd be upset?"

He downed the rest of his grape juice, and then placed the glass in the sink next to him. "It's dead right? Then yes, you should plant another one. Lovi has a terrible habit of holding on to things that he shouldn't." Feliciano shook his head, eyes glazed over. "He might not like it at first, but he needs to learn to let things go. You'll be helping him in the long run."

Antonio nodded, having found new resolve.

* * *

The look of Feliciano's face when he came to judge the new rose bush made all of Antonio's original hopes fall in an instant. The usually smiling boy suddenly looked ill as his eyes rested on the plant. He shook his head vigorously. "Oh no."

"What?" Antonio asked, swallowing the hard lump in his throat. He felt his pulse up into his fingertips as he rubbed his hands together. The Italian's eyes didn't leave the rose bush.

"God, I should have told you." He said, running a hand through his auburn hair. "They were _red_ roses Antonio. Not mixed."

Oh.

Antonio nodded, his confidence weakening with every second. His eyes rested on the bush. It was the healthiest that he could find, and the flowers varied in shape and size, ranging from red to white to yellow to pink and all in between. Of course they wouldn't work. God, why didn't he guess that? Why didn't he at least ask Feliciano? This would be it. Lovino would be either livid or depressed or a mixture of the two, and it would be his fault.

"Why mixed?"

"What?" Antonio asked, being drawn out of his thoughts.

"It's just weird that you picked mixed." Feliciano said, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Usually red roses are everyone's first pick. I'm surprised that you didn't at least pick out a bush that was white like the rest of them."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know." He said quietly. "It was the most beautiful bush there, and I don't know, I've just always preferred mixed ones. Shit," he shook his head in frustration. "that's a stupid reason. God Feli, what's Lovino going to do?"

Feliciano stared at him with pity written in his features. It only served to make Antonio more fearful.

"I don't know." He said quietly. "Can you just go to the store and get a red bush?"

"Everything's closed." Antonio said, though he wished his words weren't true. "Most of them won't open until eight tomorrow."

"Maybe I can convince Lovino to sleep in." Feliciano said, trying to be helpful. "Then you can make the trip before he goes on his morning walk."

"I'll have to do that." He said, his eyes now filled with sorrow as he stared at the beautiful set of mixed roses before him. "God, I'm so sorry."

"I'm not the one you should be saying that too."

* * *

That morning had started out as normally as any other, except for Feliciano being so insistent on him eating breakfast inside, which immediately caused him suspicion. He played the game though, and quickly ate his pancakes and eggs before taking his leave. Feliciano tried desperately to distract him with conversation, but Lovino wasn't having it, and nearly ran down the patio stairs and into the garden. Something was definitely going on that his little brother didn't want him to know about, and there was no way he'd let Feliciano get his way with this.

Lovino scanned the yard, and immediately his eyes fell on Antonio, who was crouched in front of a rose bush. He felt his heart speed up as he realized which one it was.

Antonio looked up at the sound of Lovino approaching, and quickly got to his feet. His features were filled with worry.

"What's going on?" Lovino asked, trying to peer around him.

"I'm so sorry." Antonio said quickly. "I just thought that since the bush was dead it would be a good idea to put in new roses and I didn't even bother to ask you and I know I should have…"

When Lovino finally managed to get around the gardener he froze in place, his eyes set on the rose bush. What had once been a dead, gray assortment of branches was now vibrant and flourishing. It was adorned with all types of roses, red, pink, white and gold. The leaves were thick and healthy, and it's branches were no longer frail and dull, but robust and a deep green. He couldn't understand why Antonio was so distressed.

"You replaced my bush?" he asked, and was surprised when the gardener's expression grew even more troubled.

"I thought it would help." Antonio said quietly. "You were so upset when the last one died, and you always had this sad look on your face whenever you passed by it. I wanted to help somehow. I went out and got the most beautiful bush I could find. I didn't even bother to ask if you wanted the roses to be red."

Lovino took a hesitant step towards the Spaniard, who didn't move. He was about to say something, but Antonio hurried on, obviously uncomfortable.

"God, I'm sorry." He said, and then a wry grin spread across his face, his eyes not meeting Lovino's. "I told you all about how nature was my element and how skilled I was when it came to gardening, even though I'm not good at much else. It looks like I was wrong. I don't have any talents after all- "

I could have been the fact that he'd come to adore his gardener, or it could have been the lovely rose bush beside him that seemed to erase the undesirable memory of the dead one within the blink of an eye. It could have simply been a result of Antonio's harsh words about himself, which Lovino couldn't bear to hear anymore of. It was probably a mixture of all three that led him to close the distance between them and wrap Antonio in his arms, his cheek pressing against the man's chest to hide his blush.

"I don't want to be invited to your pity party," Lovino said, "It's okay, Bastard."

For a moment he was afraid that he'd overstepped their bounds, but he suddenly felt strong arms wrap around his back and pull him closer. He tried to hide the fact that he was overjoyed at the simple contact. He had gone without a hug for several years, and he'd yearned for one ever single day.

"I'll go and get some red roses," Antonio offered. Lovino could feel his breath comb through his hair.

"No, really Antonio." He said, "It's alright. I don't want you to take them out. I love them."

Lovino paused, and then quietly said, "Thank you."

He felt the man sigh with relief.

" _Oh Dios_ ," he said, "I was worried."

At that Lovino craned his neck to look at him, a question on his lips. "Why don't you ever speak Spanish?"

Antonio shrugged. "I'm not usually around people who would understand it."

"Well you should do it more often." He continued. "My mom used to speak Italian all the time, and the language isn't that different. Feli and I would probably understand you."

" _Si lo dices_ " he said with a hum.

Lovino figured it was about time that he pulled away. He couldn't bring himself to however, and apparently Antonio couldn't either. They stayed like that for several minutes, simply holding each other in the dewy morning air.

* * *

"And another thing, who do they think I am? Some invincible superhero? I can't be working on four hours of rest, yet they expect me to stay out all night and be there the next day without a single complaint."

"God, that's terrible." Antonio said beside him, eating the omelet that Feliciano had brought out.

Lovino wanted to scream as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket as he sat on the bench. He knew it was probably Francis or his boss, calling to ask why he'd left work an hour early that day, claiming to have a stomach bug. In reality he couldn't stand to be around the Jonsi case a second longer, he just wanted to spend time in the garden, and he didn't even bother to tell himself otherwise. He very pointedly ignored the call.

"And the studio crew is the fucking worst." Lovino went on. "They always cue me late or they cue me early and they don't know how to use a fucking microphone to just communicate with me through my earpiece. I mean- they know I have one. It's ridiculous."

"Utter bullshit." Antonio confirmed.

"Jesus Christ Antonio," he continued, "You should see the amount of makeup I have to wear on camera to hide the circles under my eyes. All day every day, the only thing I hear about is the Jonsi case, the only thing I work on is the Jonsi case. I fucking hate it. This guy doesn't need any publicity; he needs to be put in jail."

By now Lovino was violently cutting up his omelet, tearing away pieces and eating them between his heated words.

"And don't get me wrong, Francis is great, but he needs to stop trying to date my brother. He needs to stop brushing off everything I say. He is my agent after all."

At that time his fork made a cringe-worthy scraping sound as he stabbed at the plate, and then suddenly Antonio burst into laughter.

Lovino stiffened. "What's so funny?"

"You're just the angriest person." He said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what was happening. "You're so bitter about everything. Your poor omelet has nearly fallen off your plate five times. I never knew you were so upset about all of this."

The reporter felt his face heat up as embarrassment crawled through his throat and down into his stomach. He'd done it again.

"I'm sorry." He said, not meeting Antonio's eyes. "I know I bitch a lot. I usually just keep my mouth shut but today it sort of just came out. I know I'm being selfish. I'll stop."

At this Antonio stopped laughing. "Do you really think I mind?"

Lovino was confused. "Um- yes?"

The gardener simply sighed, shaking his head. "Have a little more faith in me Lovi. You're stressed out and need to vent, _e_ _stoy aquí para ti_. I just needed to point out that you were about to break your plate."

Lovino let out a soft laugh. "That's fair," he said. "Sorry I'm being such a whiny prick."

Antonio heaved a sigh, "Oh Lovi," he said, laying his arm across the back of the bench. Lovino didn't flinch when he felt the gardener's forearm grazing the skin on the back of his neck. "I wouldn't want you any other way."

* * *

"Oh my fucking God." Lovino whispered as the message popped up on his computer screen. It was a top-line from Arthur, his producer and boss, that read:

 _"Jonsi broke out, yet to be found. Come to my office."_

The walk to Arthur's office felt more like a march to the electric chair. He didn't bother knocking and simply swung open the door. Arthur looked up at him from where he sat vigorously typing on his computer. His insanely large eyebrows had become easier to ignore the longer Lovino had worked with him, but today he kept his eyes on them, knowing that if his gaze met the producer's he might just lose it.

"Kiku will be sending you an email shortly." He said, "It'll have all of the information and we have and some contacts that are willing to be in the package-"

"Package?" he asked, feeling suppressed anger bubble in his chest. His shift was nearly over, there was no way he could complete a package in that time.

Arthur paused his typing and met his eyes. The look on his face was a mixture of embarrassment and displeasure. "I know you're about to go home, and I know you've been doing a lot of overtime, but Lovino- we really need this."

"Can someone else do it?" he asked. "Matthew has skill, and Yao would definitely be up for it."

To his dismay, the producer simply shook his head. "If this were any other story, I'd let them do it, but the audience is expecting your face on their television when they find out about Jonsi's escape. This is a good thing, it'll maximize your publicity."

"I don't care about my publicity," he said, feeling his hands shake. He couldn't decide if it was because of anger or exhaustion. "You can't make me do this case."

At that he turned on his heel, and nearly made it to the door before Arthur called out. "If that's what you want, then leave your station ID on my desk."

That made Lovino stop in his tracks, and though a large part of him wanted to sprint out of there anyways, he knew it wouldn't do him any good.

"I'll take the case." He submitted, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Jolly good," The producer said, "I appreciate it. I'll fund your coffee."

Lovino wanted to laugh, Arthur didn't know what he was signing up for; he went through at least six cups a day.

* * *

By the time Lovino got home, it was all he could do to keep himself from slamming open the front door and stomping upstairs. Instead he felt a pull towards the garden again, and when he realized that it was two in the morning and Antonio wouldn't be there, he nearly went upstairs to sleep.

The pull was strong however, and he stepped into the backyard, enjoying the cool, gentle breeze that hit him. This was what he needed to calm down. The beautiful night sky, the lovely plants, and the all-around peace filled scenery.

It was then that he noticed someone sitting on the bench. He didn't want to believe it, but as he got closer there was no denying who it was.

Antonio had his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes glaring straight ahead as his face strained. Lovino quickly decided he didn't like the sight.

"You know I don't give you overtime for coming in early, right?" he asked as he approached the bench. Antonio jumped at his words, his wild eyes settling down once they landed on him. He smiled.

"I know." The gardener said, scooting over so that Lovino could sit next to him. "I probably shouldn't be here. Do you want me to leave?"

"No," Lovino said automatically as he took his seat. Antonio's eyes were noticeably tinted red, and his cheeks were a slightly swollen and flushed. He wondered what he had been doing before the reporter arrived, though he had a few guesses, none of which sat well with him.

"Why are you here?" Lovino asked carefully.

"I just needed to think for a while." Antonio said, letting his hands relax at his sides. "This just seemed to be the best place to do it."

"You're always welcome." He said before he could stop himself, and then he realized that he didn't care about what he said anymore, or his reputation or any of that. He wondered when he'd gotten to that point. He continued. "You can call me whenever you need anything."

Antonio smiled softly, his green eyes resting on Lovino. "Thank you." He said, "I take it you had a rough night?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"Oh nothing," he said with a shrug, "Just the fact that you look like a raccoon and have at least three coffee stains on your shirt."

Lovino looked down and groaned. "Shit."

Antonio laughed, and then asked, "It was because of Jonsi, wasn't it?"

"Yeah." He said, rubbing his temples. "Just when I thought I'd finished reporting on him, he had to go and break out. I knew I should have gotten into real estate instead."

The Spaniard laughed again, and Lovino decided that he liked the sound.

"It'll pass, Lovi." He assured him. "In the meantime, you should probably wash that shirt."

"Nah." Lovino said. "I think I just want to go to sleep."

"Then go ahead."

Neither of them moved, and then hesitantly, slowly, with his heart beating at a breakneck speed, Lovino scooted closer to him, and gently laid his head against his shoulder. The back of their hands brushed against each other, and it was a physical effort not to grab his and hold it. God, what was he doing? This could lead to all sorts of trouble. Then again- did he care?

"Not what I expected, but I'm not complaining." Antonio said, his arm coming to rest on the back of the bench so that Lovino had more space.

The nervousness that went through him steadily disappeared as the minutes ticked by. His breathing began to even out, but he brought himself out of the doze before it could escalate. He needed to know something.

"Antonio?"

"Hm?" the gardener's chest hummed against him, and Lovino let the warmth of his voice flush over him before continuing.

"Are you okay?"

It took several moments for Antonio to respond, but Lovino didn't change the subject. He was far too stubborn for that.

"I think so." He said. "It's just been a bad day."

"Why?"

Antonio paused again; "It's the anniversary of my friend's death."

Lovino felt his breath catch in his throat. "Gilbert?"

"Yeah," he said, "You know about him?"

"Francis told me all about you guys." He replied, vowing to check in with his agent that next morning to make sure he was alright. Lovino wondered if he had overstepped any boundaries yet. He continued in a soft tone that resembled a whisper. "I'm sorry. I know how important he was to you."

"Is." Antonio corrected him. Lovino nodded.

"Is."

"What's done is done." Antonio said. "I know nothing will bring Gilbert back, but it's hard to not have any regrets. Not to mention, that asshole still owes me $20."

At this Lovino laughed, grateful that some of the tension had gone away.

"You should laugh more." Antonio said simply, and he fought away a blush.

"You think so?" he tried to keep his tone sarcastic, but it didn't work as well as he had hoped.

"I honestly do." The gardener said, and then continued with, " _Gracias_ Lovi; for sitting out here with me. It's not easy dealing with these things alone."

"I know." Lovino said, his mind briefly going back to his eighteen year old self, so busy working and trying to be there for Feliciano that he never allowed himself to grieve for his mother. He definitely knew how Antonio felt.

"You can call me too if you ever need anything." Antonio said. "Now that I recall, we never did exchange phone numbers."

"Remind me in the morning," Lovino yawned. "and Antonio?"

"Yes?"

"I hope things get better for you." He said, feeling sleep steadily take him. "You of all people don't deserve to be sad."

Another moment passed, and then he felt Antonio's lips press against his temple. Never had he gone to sleep with a clearer mind.

* * *

For the first time Lovino considered actually giving Francis Feliciano's phone number.

Not because he honestly wanted them to have a relationship, but he did want the incessant, over emotional video calls to end. At first he hadn't said anything; he hadn't even known that Feliciano had a camera on his laptop. Then one day he found him sitting on the couch with it, talking happily about the weather that would be cooling down for a week or so. For nearly a minute he thought that Feliciano had gone insane, talking to seemingly no one, but then his brother paused, and a deep voice came from the laptop's speakers.

"The weather is mild here as well."

When he recognized it as Ludwig he immediately left the room, not interested on being a part of it. He was beginning to head upstairs and get ready for his day when the doorbell rang.

He tried not to groan as he made his way to the door and opened it. On the other side of the threshold stood a tall, semi muscular man with dirty blond hair and blue eyes that were framed by a pair of glasses.

"The name's Alfred Jones." He said, sticking his hand out, and Lovino shook it.

"What can I do for you?" he asked, honestly just wanting to go to bed. It was then that Alfred reached in his pocket and pulled out a badge that read "FBI". When Lovino saw it he added a, "Sir."

"Oh, no need to be so formal!" Alfred said, "And you're Lovino Vargas? I've seen you all over TV."

"Yeah, I'm on TV sometimes." He said, still trying to get to the point. "Not that I don't appreciate your company, but why are you here?"

Alfred's smile disappeared as he put his badge back in his pocket. "There's something I need to speak with you about." He said, "And it would be preferable that all adults in the family are present. Can I come in?"

"S-sure." Lovino stuttered, stepping aside and then shutting the door once Alfred was inside. His mind was racing, what could the FBI possibly want with him?

"I'll go get Feliciano and Antonio." He said, and then pointed vaguely at the living room. "Take a seat, I'll be right back."

* * *

Antonio wouldn't admit that he was relieved when Lovino called him inside, though the weather was not nearly as bad, it was still not comfortable climate to work in. All he wanted was air conditioning and a drink, and maybe to talk to Lovino for a bit if he was lucky.

Sitting in the living room with the Vargas brothers and a member of the FBI was not at all what he expected.

"Let's see here," Alfred said, leaning back. "We've got a brother, obviously," he said, pointing at Feliciano. He then directed his gaze to Antonio, "And who are you?"

"Their gardener." He said, and was surprised when Alfred began to shake his head.

"Only family, please."

Antonio was moving to get up, but Lovino suddenly spoke from across the room.

"He is family." he said, his eyes meeting Antonio's. The Spaniard felt his heart leap at the words. He knew he meant something to Lovino, he just never thought he'd say so.

"Blood related?" Alfred asked.

"Does it matter?" Lovino replied, frowning. "He's an adult in my household. He can hear anything you have to say."

The officer's eyes narrowed for a moment, but then he shrugged. "If you say so," He said, "but understand, what I'm going to share with you shouldn't leave this house. It's for your own personal safety."

Antonio gulped. God, what was going on?

"I assume you all know who Nikolas Jonsi is, right?"

The three of them nodded, and Antonio glanced at Lovino, whose features now spelled out worry.

"As you may have heard, he escaped from the psychiatric hospital he was staying at. We have reason to believe that he's coming for revenge."

"Revenge?" Feliciano asked.

Alfred nodded. "Some of his fellow patients told authorities that he was livid when he saw your articles," he looked in Lovino's direction, and the Italian sat up straighter.

"They said that he often called you a 'brazen liar' and vowed that you'd pay for ruining his image. When he broke out, we searched his room and found this."

Alfred took a slim folder from out of his briefcase and set it on the coffee table. By now Antonio's heart was beating rapidly as he tried to comprehend what was happening.

The man opened the folder to reveal one item, a page ripped from what looked like a composition book.

"He left a diary in his room." He said, picking up the paper. "He tore this one out and placed it at the very center of his desk, as if he wanted is to find it."

"What does it say?" Lovino's hands were shaking, and Antonio had to resist the urge to go to him.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "It's more or less a manifesto. He insults you for an entire page, and then on the back he describes what he wants to do to you." He heaved an exasperated sigh. "It's not pretty. The worst part is that it didn't say anything on how he planned to do it. We still don't know where he is, though we're following through with every lead we get."

"What's going to happen?" Feliciano asked, his voice cracking with fear.

"We'll catch him, I can tell you that." The man assured. "I promise it will be sooner than later. For the time being, I want you to be extra careful. Don't answer the door for people you don't know. Don't go anywhere alone. Keep all of the doors and windows locked at all times. And if you see something," he took out a sticky note and a pen and scribbled something on it before handing it to Lovino. "Call me immediately. I'll keep you posted on the status of the case."

"What about my job?" Lovino asked.

Alfred stared at him for a long moment. "It's not a good idea to go back there."

The Italian shook his head. "Arthur will need me to report."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Arthur as in Arthur Kirkland?"

Lovino gave him a strange look. "Yes?"

"He's a buddy of mine." Alfred explained, then after a moment of thought added: "More or less. I can talk him down. In the mean time you should stay inside and lie low, you don't want to draw anymore of his attention to yourself if you don't have to."

Antonio met Lovino's eyes, wondering how that situation would work with the man who was seemingly addicted to his job.

"I'd say Lovino and Feliciano stay in the house when they can." He said, "Though I don't think your face will be too recognizable Antonio, so maybe you can do the grocery runs."

"Yeah," was all he managed to say, still not paying much attention.

Alfred stood up and packed away the folder into his briefcase. "I'll give you updates as I get them; expect a call by the end of the week, at the very latest." He began to make his way to the door on his own, everyone in the room being too stunned to walk him there. Just as he opened it Feliciano piped up.

"Mr. Jones? You'll catch him soon, right?"

Alfred grinned, giving him a thumbs up. "Definitely, kid. Catching bad guys is my specialty."

* * *

" _ **Oh Dios"-**_ **Oh God**

" _ **So lo dices"-**_ **If you say so**

" _ **Estoy aquí para ti**_ **."-I'm here for you.**

 **"Package"- A term in news that's used to describe a prerecorded video report, they're usually around two minutes long and depending on the subject can take several hours to shoot and edit.**

 **Also! I just posted a prequel to this story called: "Alcohol." It's basically the story of Antonio coming out to his parents, find it on my page!**


	4. Chapter 4

Not working was worse than the act itself.

Lovino went on his regular morning walk, sipped iced tea with Antonio on their bench, and then took a small nap. He proceeded to tidy up the house and even cleaned out the fridge. With nothing to do and no articles to work on, he was losing his mind. It didn't help that he forgot to bring his laptop home the night Alfred Jones showed up at his door. He was miserable.

He figured that he'd check in on Feliciano, since his little brother looked absolutely terrified at the news of a murderer on the hunt. The poor boy hadn't shown any interest in leaving the house since he'd gotten the news, opting instead to stay inside and paint or video call Ludwig.

This seemed to be the latter. He stopped in his tracks when he reached the door. It was slightly ajar, and he could easily hear what was going on in the room.

"It'll be alright, Feliciano." He heard Ludwig's voice, and he realized that his brother must have been video messaging again. "I'm coming back to visit during Christmas, remember?"

The German's words were met with silence, and then a muffled sob cut in. Lovino felt his heart sink a bit at the sound, though he wanted to go in and comfort his younger brother, he was also curious as to where their conversation would go, so he stayed put.

"Please don't cry," Ludwig said softly.

"Sorry," Feliciano said, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry Ludwig. I just miss you and… I'm scared."

"Why are you scared?"

Lovino took a step closer to the door, praying to God that his little brother wouldn't reveal what was supposed to be top secret information.

There was a long pause filled with sniffling, and then the sound of Feliciano blowing his nose. His brother said, "I'm scared you won't come back," and Lovino felt relief wash over him, for once Feliciano wouldn't run his mouth after all.

"I'll visit…" Ludwig said, but Feliciano cut in.

"Not to visit, to stay." He said. "I don't want to only see you twice a year."

He heard Ludwig heave a sigh. "I don't want it to be like that either." He said, and then after a long pause added, "You know I don't, Feli."

"Then why don't you come back home?" his brother's voice broke into sobs again, and Lovino felt himself smile softly. He wished things were as simple as Feliciano wanted them to be.

"Just give me three years." Ludwig pleaded, "Then I'll have my degree and I can come back."

"Okay." Feliciano said, voice still broken. "I don't want to, but okay."

The German sighed again. "I miss you too, by the way."

Lovino turned away and quickly began to make his way down the hall. He had a brilliant idea, and all of the money it would take to do so. He just needed to get his laptop.

* * *

In retrospect, maybe this wasn't such a brilliant idea.

Though the sun was still up when he left the house, by the time he reached the station it was dusk. He avoided the questioning glances of his coworkers as he strolled into the newsroom to gather his things, doing his best to get in and out in a short amount of time.

"Lovino?"

He looked up, only to see Arthur Kirkland approaching him, his face incredulous. "What are you doing here?"

"I just needed to grab my laptop." He said, putting the device in its bag and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Do you need someone to walk you out?" Arthur asked, and Lovino felt grateful for a moment, the man had never shown him much kindness in the past. "I'm sure Francis is around here somewhere."

Then he no longer felt grateful. "I'll be fine." He said quickly. "There's still some light out, and the bus should be here any…" he trailed off, glancing down at his watch. "Shit."

With that he bounded out of the newsroom and hurried down the stairs and through the large double doors that connected the station to the street. He groaned as he saw the bus just turning the corner. Of course he'd missed it.

With that Lovino began walking quickly, not wanting to be caught out after dark. He knew a bus stop just a mile away, so he headed in that direction.

He was halfway to there when he noticed someone was following him.

For at least twenty minutes he told himself that he was imagining it, until he took four turns around the block and the man was still there. He was tall and looming, with a dark trench coat and hat that cast a shadow over his face. Though he couldn't quite make out the man's features, he felt a sneaking suspicion that he should be panicking.

It was dark by then, and though here and there he passed someone, it was only a Tuesday night, and there were few people roaming the streets. He tried desperately to make eye contact with anyone he could, silently pleading for help, but he was ignored. Finally, as the man closed a little distance, he decided to call someone.

Without a second thought he dialed Antonio. It may have been wise to call Alfred, but at the moment he had tunnel vision. The only thought he had was getting to safety, and that meant getting to Antonio.

"Hey, what's up?" he heard, and he'd never felt more relieved. His mind raced for words, he couldn't tell him there was someone following him since the man was likely close enough to hear his words, and even if he did give him a location he wouldn't dare stop and wait.

"Hey babe." He said, his voice shaking. He took a deep breath, he could do this.

"Babe? Antonio asked. "Lovi- what-"

"Just leaving work." Lovino said, praying that Antonio would catch on. "Will you have dinner ready for me?"

"Lovi, I don't understand," Antonio said, and he felt his heart beat quicken. This _had_ to work.

"Yeah I'm walking down Main Street; I'm heading over right now." He paused, his palms sweating. "I-It's pretty dark out."

He counted to five, and nearly burst into tears of relief when Antonio said, "Keep walking, head towards the theatre. I'll meet you there."

It was then that he noticed the man steadily gaining on him. He resisted the urge to tear off running down the street.

"Help me," he whispered before he could stop himself. He prayed that the man didn't hear.

"I'm coming. Stay on the phone with me." Antonio said. "Tell me about your day."

Lovino racked his brain. How could he possibly think about that at a time like this?

"I-I cleaned out the fridge." He said. "And I cleaned the house."

"That bored?"

"Yeah," he said, he could feel his pulse in his fingertips as he gripped the phone tighter. "There wasn't much to do."

"You could've come outside with me." Antonio said.

"I know," Lovino replied. "I just didn't want to bother you."

"Like that could ever happen."

He wasn't able to enjoy the compliment, because as he walked by a mirrored window he saw the outline of the man, just fifteen feet or so behind him.

"Please hurry," he breathed, wondering if it was a good idea to hang up and call Feliciano, if only to give him a swift goodbye.

"I'm almost there." He said, "I can see you."

He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and as he realized it was Antonio walking towards him, it took everything he had not to run out and meet him half way.

Lovino pretended not to notice his gardener, seeing as the man would find it suspicious if he saw Antonio and just kept walking. Instead he just held his breath, counting to ten. He only made it to three when he felt someone grab his hand.

"Antonio," was all he could say as he turned around. The man before him was wearing only pajamas and slippers, and had atrocious bed head. He would have felt guilty for waking him up if he wasn't still scared out of his mind.

No other words were exchanged; Antonio's hug hit him hard, the man pulling him so close that it almost hurt. Lovino didn't care; he hugged back for all he was worth.

Finally the footsteps passed them, and then grew softer and softer until he could no longer hear them. It was only then that Lovino realized how much he was shaking.

Antonio rubbed his back, repeatedly whispering, "Its okay."

It was an eternity before either of them could use complete sentences.

"He's gone." Antonio said, pulling away. Lovino immediately missed his warmth, but couldn't dwell on it as the gardener grabbed his hand and began to lead him away, making a point to take a different route than that by which he came.

"I'm sorry." Lovino said. "I woke you up, didn't I?"

Antonio gave him a questioning look. "So what? You were being stalked by a murderer. I think I'm willing to sacrifice."

"I know I shouldn't have left the house," Lovino said, "It all would have been fine if I hadn't missed the bus."

"What were you doing, anyways?"

He couldn't meet the Spaniard's eyes; it was a godawful mistake after all. "I needed my laptop. I was going to surprise Feli and get him a plane ticket to Germany."

"Really?" Antonio asked, breaking into a grin. "Oh Lovi, that's so sweet of you! I knew you had a heart somewhere in there."

"Shut up." Lovino said, feeling the corners of his lips tug upwards. "Where are we going?"

"My place." Antonio said, "I'm low on gas right now, but I'm sure you can find someone who's willing to come get you."

He only nodded, still recovering from the terrifying ordeal and therefore unable to be embarrassed at the thought of going to Antonio's home. It took a few minutes, but finally they made it to a quaint apartment complex. Even though the parking lot was lit they glanced around cautiously before going to his door and stepping inside, then quickly locking it behind them.

It wasn't impressive at all. On the contrary, most of the furniture looked to be at least ten years old, and there was paint flicking off of the walls. There were also several posters and framed photographs, which added their own feeling of home.

It was only then that he realized they were still holding hands. Lovino allowed himself to be guided to the worn leather loveseat. Antonio then let go of him and headed to the kitchen. He called over his shoulder. "I don't have much to eat, unless you want left overs."

"I'm not hungry." Lovino said, certain that his nerves would keep him from enjoying any sort of meal. He glanced around to find a remote for the box television. When he turned it on he was satisfied to find that it was already playing a soccer game. He couldn't bring himself to focus on it though, and simply stared ahead as he willed himself to calm down. It was safe; he repeated in his mind, he was with Antonio. It was safe.

The man who occupied his thoughts appeared a few moments later, holding a couple of mugs. He handed one to Lovino, who by now had stretched himself out on the couch. This was all sickeningly domestic, he thought to himself. Antonio moved to sit down, and with a decent amount of complaining (though trying not to smile the entire time) Lovino moved his legs so he could do so.

"It's chamomile," he said, gesturing at the mug, and Lovino gratefully took a sip. "I figured it would help you calm down."

"Yes, because that's all it takes to get over a life threatening experience," he said, placing the mug on the coffee table next to Antonio's. The Spaniard reached behind him to grab a large, patchwork quilt and throw it over them.

"You aren't going to have someone come get you?" Antonio asked after they'd been settled for a few minutes.

"If it's alright with you," Lovino paused, wondering what reasoning he had to stay at the Antonio's home. He could surely convince somebody to come and get him if he wanted to. "I'm fine with staying here."

Antonio sat back. "Then by all means do, though you may want to tell Feli."

His eyes widened. "Shit,"

Discreetly, he took out his phone to quickly type a text in response to the seven texts he'd been sent asking where he was.

"Do you want to take the bed then?" Antonio asked, lazily clicking through the channels before going back to the soccer game.

"No, it's alright. I'll take the couch." He answered..

"I insist." Antonio replied, but Lovino simply shook his head and pulled the blanket further over his chest.

They left it at that, simply sitting together and watching the soccer game, though neither could quite focus on it. Just as Lovino noticed that Antonio was about to drift off, he spoke up.

"Thank you," he said softly, "For coming to get me."

Antonio offered him a small, weary smile. "Of course, Lovi. Now we should go to sleep."

It didn't take much more prompting, and with the lights on and the soccer game coming to an end, they fell asleep, and when Lovino woke up in the morning to find his legs laying across Antonio's lap, said man resting his arms against his shins and snoring softly, he convinced himself that it was alright to sleep in that day.

* * *

Lovino tried to act excited as he gave the plane ticket to Feliciano, but after staying up half the night, then spending all morning answering Alfred's questions, he wasn't in his best mood. Luckily, Feliciano didn't care about such things, because the moment he read the words on the ticket he burst into tears and pulled Lovino into a hug that made him question if his ribs were still intact. Beneath it all, he was smiling

The next day was spent responding to emails, answering a call from Francis, and double checking the house to make sure it was secure. After all Jonsi was somewhere in the city and he now had a general idea of…

Then the thought hit him. He realized it just as he was about to head to the garden. It was unlikely that Jonsi would know where Lovino lived, but he could definitely have an idea of Antonio's address considering what had happened the night before. His pace quickened.

"Antonio!" he called. The man turned from where he stood watering the cherry tree, quietly humming.

"Move in with me." Lovino said before he could think twice. Antonio gave him a curious look.

"Sure, but why?"

"Oh," Lovino said, realizing how strange he must sound. He felt the tips of his ears turn red. "I mean, I just thought that Jonsi might know where you live now, and I figured it would be best if we played it safe, just until he gets caught. We have a spare bedroom."

Antonio grinned, "So you do care about me after all!" he exclaimed.

"Of course I do," Lovino said, adding a "Bastard" for good measure.

* * *

He stood still when a car pulled up to the apartment building and a tall, tan man accompanied by Lovino Vargas entered, making a few trips with suit cases and boxes in hand. Their eyes glanced around every few moments, constantly checking to see if they were being watched.

They couldn't see him of course, he'd learned from his past mistake, and now hid away between the dumpsters as he watched the two go about their activities. He couldn't approach him again, not as he did the night before. He needed to take his time, to create a thorough plan. The reporter would be a bit of a challenge compared to the others.

At one point the taller man threw his arm over Lovino Vargas, grinning widely while the younger man blushed.

He smiled. It was a challenge he was up for.

* * *

For the first time in his entire life, he was relieved to be called into work.

Well, called into isn't the correct term. He was more or less asked if he wanted to do part time video editing, all the while he'd remain off screen. After a week of enduring the boredom of staying at home without anything to work on, he said yes in an instant, though he wondered how he could keep it a secret from his gardener.

It really wouldn't have been a problem if Antonio hadn't recently moved in. Now that the man was a constant he knew he'd have to be more discreet when sneaking out of the house, as Antonio was cleverer than Feliciano and more likely to read between the lines when he said he was "Going out." This usually resulted in an argument between the two of them regarding his safety and the cautions he'd been warned to take by Alfred. Lovino would have been more upset with Antonio's protests if his gardener didn't have a valid point.

He had to all but force Antonio to stay home when he drove Feliciano to the airport. It was touching that the man cared so much about him, and when they argued about such things he was usually fighting away a blush. Regardless, Lovino needed his independence, and after five minutes of demanding that he take Feliciano to the airport on his own, he finally seemed to win. The Spaniard simply shook his head and then left to the garden, calling over his shoulder, "Be careful, Lovi."

At that, he triumphantly drove Feliciano to the airport, spent the entire wait lecturing him on basic safety among other things that left the younger brother apparently uncomfortable, and then reluctantly drove home.

He only made it half way before Arthur called him.

"Are you bored?" he asked after a few minutes of polite small talk.

"God, yes." Lovino said, wondering where this was going.

"We're short on editors until Ivan gets back from his visit to Moscow, and we could also use someone to write internet articles. I know you need to lie low right now but you wouldn't have to appear on television or anything-"

"I'll do it." Lovino interrupted him. "When can I come in?"

There was a pause in which he could hear Arthur flicking through papers, and then the producer said, "We're actually hurting for an editor today, if you can manage. Only for a few hours though, I don't have any articles for you to write at the moment."

"I'm heading over there right now." He said, changing lanes quickly. He didn't care that he had just cut someone off; he was practically shaking with excitement. After several days of this suffocating boredom Arthur could have called him in to shred papers and he'd still go.

It was good to see his coworkers who had all worried about him in his absence. However while most simply asked, "Where have you been?" or said, "I hope you've been doing okay.", Francis nearly strangled him with the hug he gave him. He was even daring enough to pick him up and spin him around, which would under normal circumstances piss him off, but at the time he couldn't care less. He was just glad to be out of the house.

"I see." Francis said once they had settled down in an editing room. His agent was carelessly twirling his hair as he stared at the ceiling. "So I don't have a chance with the wonderful Feliciano after all."

"Nope." Lovino said, trying to hide how smug he felt.

"That is…" he continued, wiggling an eyebrow as a grin began to spread across his features. "Unless this 'Ludwig' you speak of is willing to share."

And suddenly Lovino wasn't as happy to be back. "For the love of Christ will you shut the fuck up?"

* * *

He wasn't surprised to find Antonio in the garden later that night. When he approached him the Spaniard appeared to be resting, and when he noticed reporter walking towards him his features where taken over by a look of wild concern and relief, which made Lovino's heart speed up.

"I know I'm late." he said, not meeting the Spaniard's eyes. He could only guess how worried he might have been when he was basically missing for four hours.

"I called you." Antonio said, his face softening a bit, though his mouth was set in a firm line. "Why are you late?"

Though he considered it for a moment, Lovino decided it was best to tell the truth. He was never a good liar anyways. "I was called into work."

The gardener's eyes widened. "Lovi…"

"I wasn't on television or anything." He said quickly, "I just edited some video for them. I know I should have told you but I was excited to have something to do. I didn't want to worry you, Antonio."

"Well you did worry me." He said, the weary look on his face left him feeling rather guilty, and Lovino's mind searched for something that could remedy the situation.

"I'm sorry Toni."

At this the Spaniard looked up, smiling. "You've never called me that." He said as he stood and approached him.

"Don't expect me to do it again." Lovino said, feeling himself grudgingly return the smile.

Suddenly Antonio took his hand and led him across the garden. Though he felt the tips of his ears turning red, he didn't say anything, simply following the man and enjoying the feeling of the larger hand enveloping his own.

They stopped in front of a tomato bush, and although he was puzzled for a moment, when Antonio reached down to pull one of the ripe, firm fruits from their vine he began to understand.

"Here," he said, handing it the reporter. "Can you see the difference between this one and the one you held a few months ago?"

"Yeah," Lovino said, marveling that his plant had produced a tomato that was nearly perfect in every way.

"Do you remember our deal, Lovi?"

The Italian looked up. "We eat this, I make you famous, and then you take me out to dinner." He said, and Antonio grinned widely.

"Go ahead, _mi amor._ "

Lovino froze for a moment, glancing up at the man. Antonio seemed to have not realized what he said, that or he didn't care, the wide grin on his face not changing a bit. For the moment he'd shrug it off, he decided, though he felt a blush spread across his cheeks.

Before he could dwell on it for too long, he took a bite out of the large, deep red tomato that he held in his hand. Antonio was right, he could go ahead and eat it like an apple without a problem, it was delicious.

"It's good?" he asked, taking the fruit from him and taking a bite himself. He closed his eyes, his face overcome with bliss. "Ah, I've really outdone myself this time."

"It's okay I guess," Lovino said, though he was sure the small smile on his lips betrayed his words.

"Good enough to get the famous Lovino Vargas to publish an article about how skilled I am?"

"Dinner first." He said.

Antonio scratched his chin. "I don't know if going to a restaurant would be a good idea with a murderer stalking you and all."

"Probably not." Lovino said with a shrug. "But I don't really mind."

To his dismay the Spaniard simply shook his head. "No, Lovi. It'd be best if we stayed here." His words were pierced by a smile. "But some say you're a kick ass cook."

He snorted. "Excuse you? _Some?"_ Picking up a tomato, he continued. "I'll have you know, bastard, everyone _knows_ I'm a kick ass cook, and lucky for you these tomatoes are perfect for a _mia madre's_ famous _Bruschetta_."

* * *

Lovino Vargas wasn't a fan of romance.

It was too sticky, too attached, and altogether unnecessary. Any kind of romance, whether it be songs or plays or drama or love, left him uncomfortable and unsure of what to do with himself. Tonight was no different.

He was getting better though.

They sat under his cherry tree with an old, worn quilt beneath them. They had brought out his grandfather's wine, his _Bruschetta,_ and several other fruits and vegetables from the garden that the Antonio had deemed too perfect to not include. Said Spaniard had lit a couple of candles, setting them on top of the picnic basket that was altogether unnecessary considering that they had only traveled as far as his backyard. It was like a scene from a poorly written romance book. It sickened him.

However, as the minutes passed Lovino hated it less and less. Besides, Antonio's emerald eyes were lovely with the light of the candles reflected in them.

That was probably the wine talking, he told himself, ignoring the fact that he'd only had one glass.

His thoughts were interrupted as his phone began to buzz in his pocket. Just as he pulled it out however, it was taken from him by a smug looking Spaniard who turned to place the device near the base of the tree, too far for Lovino to reach.

"You work too much, Lovi." He said, taking a steady sip of wine. "You need to learn to enjoy yourself."

"You don't know if that was a work related call." Lovino defended, not nearly as grumpy with the Spaniard as he was trying to be. "For all we know that was Alfred calling to say that Jonsi's on his way to kill us."

Antonio raised an eyebrow, and then laughed. "Let him get us!" he exclaimed. "I've already finished my life's work. I can't imagine what I could possibly do now that would compete with this magnificent garden."

Though Lovino was going to shoot him a snarky remark, he couldn't manage it. It was all he could do to hold back a smile as he followed the Spaniard's gaze, observing his once dying, grey garden that was now bursting with life and color.

"You do like it, don't you Lovi?"

He looked back at his gardener, surprised to see that his grin was now replaced with a hesitant frown, his eyes fixed on his feet. The reporter blinked. He couldn't possibly think that Lovino disapproved of his work, as if anyone could?

But he didn't say this; he simply moved his hand to rest on the Spaniard's forearm. Antonio's eyes widened and even Lovino seemed surprised at his actions. He didn't move, however, his hand maintaining steady contact with the man's sun kissed skin.

"I love it, Antonio." He said, his voice suddenly a shaky whisper, though he didn't know why. "Thank you."

Antonio's eyes traveled from the hand on his arm to Lovino's own pair, staying fixed on them for several moments. He didn't miss how they briefly flicked to his lips from time to time.

As their gaze remained locked, Lovino realized something. Antonio's eyes weren't the pure, emerald green he'd labeled them as before. If he focused he could see several hazel flecks surrounding the pupils. He wondered how he hadn't noticed them before.

Before he could ponder on it too long, he realized that the Spaniard was inching towards him, a hesitant smile on his lips as he closed the already minimal distance between them. He gave an exaggerated wink, and Lovino would have rolled his eyes if Antonio hadn't kissed him.

A million thoughts ran through his head at once. Part of him was confused. This was all a dream- right? There was no way that Antonio Fernandez Carriedo of all people was kissing _him_. He was only Lovino, the grumpy, bitchy reporter, the first born yet second loved son. It's what he'd always been and always would be. The Spaniard couldn't possibly think of him as any more than that.

He was also afraid, God he was afraid. As the man's lips pressed to his, gentle and persistent, he was nearly devoured by the sudden fear in his gut. This was a terrible idea. He shouldn't be getting this close to him. He shouldn't be letting this happen. He needed to push him away, to go inside, to turn on the television and block out any and all thoughts of the Spaniard. This relationship they'd developed could never work, right? There was no way it could.

Then a thought struck him, and the only thing he could do was kiss the man back, holding his face steadily as if he were afraid he'd slip away. After all, who said it couldn't work? This wasn't a movie or a novel; there were no work restrictions or societal bounds to keep them separate. The only thing that had the power to keep this at bay was him.

Dear lord- he thought as the man pulled him closer, wrapping his arms securely around his frame- why on earth had he held himself back from this? What had he been thinking he'd accomplish?

It didn't matter anymore- none of it did. Antonio gently pushed him onto his back, running a tender hand through his hair as he pulled back for some air, his normally wide grin a little softer, yet there nonetheless.

"I've been wanting to do that for months now." He said, breathless. "Ever since I first sat with you on that bench."

"Why'd you wait?" Lovino asked..

"You were always busy." Antonio replied, his cheeks decorated with red. "And I'm a little bitch."

"At least the first one's changed." He said, and the Spaniard gave him a look of exasperation before leaning down to kiss him again, his movements no longer showing any hints of hesitation.

The candles had burnt out long before they fell asleep.

* * *

 ** _"Mi amor"- My love_**

 ** _"Mia Madre's"- My mother's_**

 **A quick note: I apologize that this chapter is so small, I fell about a thousand characters short of what I usually do. My excuse? It's been the worst week of my life.**

 **Seriously though, my date stood me up, I crashed my car, I had a medical accident and had to go the ER and spend the night in the ICU, and just this morning I lost my job (not my news job, thank God, but my second job).**

 **So yeah, I'm a little bummed right now. I'm surprised I even have the energy to post this. But hey, you know what would make me feel better? Some reviews. Yes, I'm shameless. I hope your day goes better than mine!**


	5. Chapter 5

Though he never hid how worried he was, Antonio didn't hinder Lovino from going to work. The reporter was glad for it, since the boredom of being trapped in his home was suffocating him. He did however; try to convince him to stay home nearly every day. Whether it was by the promise of a good meal or shameless showering of affection, he relentlessly gave Lovino reasons to skip work. Up until now he'd ignored him, finding the man's gestures humorous and endearing, but not enough to keep him from the call of news, and his thirst for productivity.

It must have been a Spanish thing, he thought as he watched the man from his kitchen window. Antonio was crouched by his pepper plants, pulling out the young weeds that were growing there before they could become a hassle, all the while singing softly to himself in Spanish.

Lovino felt his heart warm at the sight, and he was glad he'd stayed home that day. It was a combination of the warm, humid air and the lack of sun that convinced him to give in and skip work. There was bound to be a thunderstorm that day, and it'd been years since he'd had the time to sit and watch one.

His feet took him out of the kitchen outside, then towards the garden. Antonio turned at the sound of his footsteps, a wide grin already on his face.

"So you decided to stay home today after all, _mi amor?"_

Lovino felt a blush spread across his face. They were more or less in a relationship, but they'd yet to explicitly define it, and though he was beginning to grow accustomed to it, the Spaniard's affections would still leave him flustered.

"I wanted to watch the lightning." He said, pointing up. Antonio stood and walked towards him, taking off his gardening gloves and dropping them behind him.

"I'm sure the storm will start before the hour's out." He said, offering him a hand, "Would you like to watch it together?"

Lovinio raised an eyebrow as he took his hand. "Is there any other reason for me to be out here?"

Antonio smiled, and in one, swift move fell on his back in the green grass, taking Lovino with him.

"What do you think you're doing, bastard?" He asked as he landed nearly completely on top of the Spaniard. Antonio only grinned.

"We're going to watch the storm, aren't we?"

An idea came to Lovino's mind, one that would surely wipe the smug look off of the man's face. Bracing his elbow on the ground, and tangling his other hand in the man's collar, he pulled him up into a deep, passionate kiss.

Antonio froze for a moment, but his smile only widened against Lovino's lips as he returned the kiss. Their movements soon dissolved into the rhythm they'd come to learn over their week alone together. Slowly, thoroughly, and by some standards lazily they kissed. It could have lasted minutes or hours, but they didn't keep track of time, only breaking away when raindrops began to hit their skin.

"You're going to miss the storm, Lovi." Antonio said, pulling back.

"Damn right I will." Lovino responded, pressing their lips together again as thunder cracked above them.

It was only once it had begun to pour that he pulled completely away, rolling to the Spaniard's side and taking his hand in his, using his other one to shield his eyes from the raindrops.

"What are you going to tell Feli?" Antonio asked after a few minutes.

"About us?" he asked, and Antonio nodded. "I suppose the truth, I doubt he'll care. He'd be excited more than anything else. What about you?"

The Spaniard's green eyes met his. "What do you mean?"

"Aren't you going to tell your family? Francis?"

"My family…" he trailed off, and Lovino nearly clapped his hand over his mouth. Oh God, he'd forgotten all about Antonio's past, of his troubles with his religious parents and the fallout because of it.

"Francis?" He urged, trying to change the subject and feeling relieved when Antonio's expression brightened again.

"Francis would be ecstatic." He said. "He's been worrying over my love life for years."

Lovino snorted. "It can't have been that long since you've dated someone."

Antonio glanced at him, worry in his eyes. "Actually Lovi, you're the first person I've gone steady with."

The reporter sat up. "What?" he asked, mind racing. There was no way that could be; Antonio was just so… so easy, and simple. Not in a bad way of course, he was just a comfortable person overall, as well as patient and caring. Not to mention (and he surely wouldn't) Antonio was stunningly beautiful.

"I mean, I had a few hookups every now and again." He confessed, rubbing the back of his neck. "But nothing too serious, nothing like this."

Lovino looked away. So this was his first relationship? Suddenly a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, and he felt the intense need to be perfect flare up in his mind. It was an instinct that he'd engrained into himself every day for years. He simply _had_ to be excellent. He had to be perfect. He had to be everything the Spaniard ever wanted, to ensure that his first relationship his best.

"Hey Lovi, we should get out of the rain." Antonio said, pointing above them to the dark sky that was lit up by lightning.

"I'll race you to the porch." He said, getting to his feet and taking off. The gardener took a moment, but then realized what was happening and got up to chase after him.

"You got a head start, you know!" he called out, and Lovino laughed.

"As a reporter I've learned to play dirty." He said once they got under the roof, trying to stifle his smile as Antonio looked absolutely crestfallen at his defeat.

"That's rude." He said, pulling his T-shirt over his head and wringing it out. Lovino looked away, blushing.

"My God, don't you have a sense of decency?"

Antonio paused for a moment, and then seemed to realize what Lovino was talking about. "It's nothing you haven't seen." He said, cocking his head to the side in confusion.

The reporter blushed harder, trying for several moments to come up with a witty retort. Finally he said; "You need to work on your farmer's tan."

"Is that permission to work shirtless?" Antonio asked with a grin, and Lovino simply couldn't help it. He smiled back.

* * *

When Feli returned, there was a ring on his finger.

At first Lovino didn't think anything of it as they began their walk out of the airport, Feli smiling and bouncing around as he babbled about his trip. His brother had surely bought some souvenirs after all. It was only when they'd reached home that he noticed which finger it was on, and he stopped in his tracks.

"What is it?" Feliciano asked, turning around, but when he saw what Lovino was staring at a look of fear immediately overcame him.

"It's a promise ring." He assured, his voice shaking. "Ludwig and I aren't- he didn't propose. It's just so I'll wait for him."

"For how long?" Lovino asked, and Feliciano blinked.

"What?"

"Do you even know when he's coming back? If he's coming back?" Lovino didn't mean for his voice to sound so cruel, but he was worried. Feliciano was simply too young to be making commitments like this, especially to that German bastard.

"Well no, we didn't really discuss when _exactly_ he'd come back, but it will be in a few years." Feliciano said, twiddling his thumbs as he avoided his brother's gaze. "But he _is_ coming back. He promised."

Lovino simply shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. Good God, what a mistake he'd made letting Feliciano onto that airplane. "Feli, as your brother I'm telling you that this is a bad idea. You're going to end up hurt. If he's not committed enough to decide between you and his job, then he's not worth it."

He knew he must have said something harsh, because immediately Feliciano's eyes began to tear up. His brother shook his head, looking down as he clutched his hands together. "He said he loves me…"

Lovino stepped towards him, a little angry at himself for causing his brother pain, but at the same time convincing himself that it had to happen. Feliciano was too innocent, to sheltered and young to make a decision like this. "Love is a strong word to use, Feli-"

"How the fuck would you know?" Feliciano asked, his voice drunk with anger. Lovino stilled, he couldn't remember the last time he'd heard his brother swear, and the harshest words were only joking insults. Something told him Feliciano wasn't amused. He heard singing coming from the garden, and prayed that Antonio wouldn't walk in to this mess.

"I've had people tell me they love me." Lovino said, trying to keep his tone gentle. "Dad did, Mom did, and look, they're both gone. You can't trust anyone to stay."

Feliciano's eyes were filled with rage as he all but shouted, "You wouldn't know. You've never loved anyone in your life!"

The words hurt him more than anything physical could, and for a moment he just gaped at his brother, stunned. No, he was wrong. He had to be. Lovino had loved plenty of people, and they'd loved him back.

Right?

It was an insecurity that had haunted him his entire life, ever since his grandfather remembered Feliciano's birthday but forgot his at the vulnerable age of ten years old. He'd never felt more torn apart, more disposable then he had then. He had convinced himself that it was easier to ignore the notion of love altogether, that keeping his distance would keep him safe. He knew it made him undesirable and sometimes despicable. He knew that people didn't want to be around him. He knew how much he was ignored, because hating him would've been too much effort.

Lovino ran a hand through his hair, looking away as he tried to stall the pain that welled up in his chest. He _did_ love people- his family at least. He knew he wasn't too good at it, but he definitely tried.

God knows he tried.

Feliciano's eyes widened, as if he just realized the gravity of what he said. "Lovi…"

"Why don't you go unpack?" Lovino said quietly, not trusting his emotions. He half expected Feliciano to burst into tears and hug him, apologizing as he did whenever he'd hurt someone else. Instead his brother grabbed his suitcase and went upstairs, not saying a single word.

Antonio's singing drifted to him again, and he felt the ball of tension within him ease a bit. He'd never known exactly how to love, but he was learning.

* * *

Sadness was exhausting, and because of the mood he'd been put in the night before, Lovino slept in several hours longer than he had intended. It was a heavy, dreamless sleep, one that he only woke up from when someone knocked on his door, and Antonio burst into his room.

"Lovino-"

"What the fuck?" he asked, rubbing his eyes vigorously as he tried to comprehend the sudden consciousness he'd entered.

Antonio approached the bed. "Have you seen Feliciano anywhere?"

"You asshole, I've been asleep until a minute ago. How would I know?" Lovino asked, twisting his back in an effort to pop it. He hadn't slept that deeply in years.

"I can't find him anywhere." Antonio said. "Did he go somewhere? Did something happen?"

"I…" Lovino trailed off, blinking as the world suddenly became clear. He swung himself off the bed and quickly began to dress himself, worry flashing through his mind.

"Lovi?"

"We got in a fight last night." Lovino said, taking a moment to put on shoes and pat down his hair before he took off out of the room. Stupid, _stupid_ Feliciano, taking everything to heart, always too emotional. He should have known that Lovino didn't mean any harm by his words, even if they were harsh.

"What did you guys fight about?" Antonio asked, following the reporter as he bounded down the stairs and grabbed his keys from the table beside his couch.

"It was about Ludwig." He said, quickly getting into his car and starting it, and Antonio barely had time to get in before he took off. "I didn't think he'd react like this."

"Do you know where he could be?" Antonio asked, and Lovino threw a hand up in the air in frustration.

"Fuck if I know. My God- did he just forget that there's a murderer on the loose? How did he even justify running away like this?"

"What did you say to him?" the gardener asked, and Lovino took a breath, then explained the events of the previous night.

"Then after that he stomped upstairs, and I went to bed." He finished, looking over at Antonio, only to see that the man was zoned out, staring at some point in the distance. "Are you even hearing me?"

"Yeah I just…" he trailed off, pointing across the road at an old, quaint park. "Is that him?"

Lovino followed his gaze, and pressed against the breaks when he saw a certain auburn haired Italian swinging on the swing set.

He pulled over, perhaps a little forcefully, but he didn't care. Feliciano looked up at the sound of footsteps in the grass, and though he expected some sort of emotional reaction, Lovino was met with a blank stare from his younger brother.

"Let's go home." He said, and to his relief the younger man didn't say anything, only nodding as he followed him back to the car, wordlessly getting into the back seat.

"And just what do you think you were doing?" Lovino asked once they were on the road. "Now is not the time to be wandering around town. Did you forget about Jonsi?"

"Oh…" Feliciano started, looking up suddenly. "I guess I did."

The reporter shook his head, willing himself to calm down. He'd found his brother, and despite how stupid the reason he left was, he'd still found him.

"I'm not mad." He said with a sigh. "Okay- well I am mad. You scared me shitless. Why did you leave like that? Was it because of what I said?"

Feliciano paused for a moment, then nodded.

Lovino pushed a hand against his forehead. He'd only been doing what he thought was best. He didn't mean to have things end up like this.

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings." He said finally, pulling into the driveway. "We can talk about Ludwig later, but Feli- you just _can't_ go running off like that, especially not now. There's somebody out to get me, and we look an awful fucking lot alike."

"Okay." He said with a nod before quietly continuing. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright." Lovino said, and then Antonio spoke for the first time.

"You know you can always talk to me if you ever need anything, Feli." He said, turning back to look at his brother.

Feliciano cocked his head to the side. "Yeah but I don't know if I should be spending too much time with my brother's boyfriend."

At that Lovino and Antonio's met eyes, wondering how Feliciano knew about them.

"Wait- did you guys _not_ get together while I was gone?"

"We did." Lovino said after a pause, glancing suspiciously at the gardener, who only shook his head in confusion.

"Well now you owe me twenty bucks Antonio." Feliciano said with a triumphant grin, and the reporter's eyes widened.

"You guys made a bet?" he asked, and Antonio rubbed the back of his head, looking at his feet.

"It's not like that…" he said, "I mean- I didn't…" his green eyes looked helpless as he tried to find the words to say.

"Just make sure you pay up," Lovino said, shaking his head. Today was just too much. "We Italian's know how to hold a grudge."

* * *

They didn't share a bed, not officially anyways, but that didn't stop Antonio from worrying when he woke up to find the space beside him empty.

When he felt around for a few moments and only found cold sheets, he turned over to check his alarm clock. It was four in the morning.

He might have gone to do the morning news, Antonio reminded himself as he sat up. Lovino had done so a few times before, whenever he suffered from a bout of insomnia.

It was probably nothing, and he knew that as he pulled on a robe and began to look around the house. Then again, it could very well be something, and he's wasn't about to take any chances.

Antonio wasn't surprised to find Lovino in the garden, since he'd done so several times before. The reporter was simply standing in front of a rose bush, _his_ rose bush, he realized, and halted in his tracks.

"Are you alright?"

Lovino jumped at his words, and turned around with a wild fear in his eyes before they settled on him. Antonio was just about to poke fun at him before he remembered that he was being hunted by a murderous psychopath, after all.

"Yeah I just…" Lovino trailed off, turning around again to look at the rose bush. Antonio walked over to him, waiting patiently for the man to say something.

"I'm worried about Feli." He said, running a hand through his hair. "I don't want to be an asshole, but I don't like what's happening with Ludwig and him. He's just too young for something like that."

"He's eighteen now." Antonio said, stepping closer to Lovino. "He's going to do what he wants regardless of what you think."

"I know." The reporter said, rubbing his arms. "That doesn't mean I like it." He paused for another minute, and Antonio closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Lovino to pull his back to his chest and resting his chin on the smaller man's shoulder.

"I just wish I knew how to interact with people without upsetting them." Lovino said, leaning back into him. "I don't mean to be nearly as bitchy as I am."

"I don't think you're that bitchy." He protested, and Lovino let out a small laugh before going quiet, eyes still resting on the rose bush.

Several moments passed before he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "Feli said that I've never loved anyone in my life."

Antonio blinked, had the younger Italian actually said that? Feliciano had always been peppy and kind- and for him to say something like that, he must have been thoroughly upset.

"What did you say back?" he asked, and Lovino sighed.

"Nothing really. I didn't know what to say. Feli's never acted like this, even when I'm _trying_ to be an asshole."

"He must really love Ludwig." Antonio said, and Lovino turned around.

"But he's wrong- right?" he asked, concern written across his face. "I know how to love people, don't I?"

It was then that Antonio saw tears sitting in Lovino's eyes, and he froze, the only thing running through his mind was how to keep the man from crying.

"You love Feli," he said, "And I'm sure you loved your mom and-"

"I know that I love people." Lovino interrupted, looking away and blinking rapidly. "I'm just not doing it right- am I? I don't know how to make Feli laugh or smile like you do; I don't know how to cheer him up like mom did. You've helped me with everything- while I hardly do anything for you. I'm angry and bitter and I don't want to be. I'm trying not to be. Neither of you deserve this."

Antonio felt a piece of his heart break away with word. So Lovino had been feeling this way the entire time? How had he not seen it?

"I'm sorry." Lovino said, rubbing his sleeve over his eyes. "I can be better. I'm trying to be better."

Antonio was never good with words, and when the reporter began to cry the only thing he could do was pull him to his chest and wrap his arms around his waist.

Lovino clutched at his shirt, his forehead pressed against the Spaniard's shoulder as tears continued to fall from his eyes. "I just wish I wasn't like this." He said softly.

A heartbeat passed before Antonio said, "No Lovi, you can't think like that." He pulled him closer, trying desperately to stop the sobs that shook through the younger man. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Don't lie to me." Lovino said, "I don't want you to compliment me out of pity."

"I…" Antonio trailed off, wracking his brain to find the right thing to say, but then settled with what was actually going through his mind.

"I wouldn't change you, and I don't think Feli would either." He said, "You guys had a disagreement. Things like that happen. It doesn't mean you're no good, and I'm sure Feli wishes he hadn't said those things to you."

Lovino said nothing, so he continued.

"You just try so hard to be perfect Lovi, and you don't need to. You can be nice to me, and you're so – _so_ good at writing. It makes me jealous; I've never been good with my words. You're also a good cook, and you're funny and good at kissing and-"

"That's enough." Lovino said, pulling back with a small smile, and Antonio was relieved to see it.

"None of those things really matter." He said, and the gardener was about to protest before he continued. "I know there are things I'm good at; but am I good to _you_?"

"Yes!" he said, becoming frustrated with himself. That had been what he was trying to say the entire time. "You can be sarcastic and grumpy, but I know you don't mean any of it."

Lovino's eyes went to his feet, and Antonio put a hand on his cheek, trying to convey through touch what he couldn't through words.

"But in the end, when it really matters, you're kind. I know you care about me. I don't ever question that."

"Even when I hurt your feelings?" Lovino asked, hesitantly meeting his eyes.

" _Mi amor_ \- you've only hurt my feelings once, and that was when you wouldn't call me 'Toni'."

At that Lovino laughed, and Antonio felt the pressure in the air lessen. His hand traveled to grab the younger man's, and the two began the walk back inside and to the bedroom.

"But really Lovi, don't be so hard on yourself." He said once they settled back into the bed. "I'm sure Feli already forgave you, but if not just make some pasta. Then you'll definitely win him over."

The reporter smiled at him, and Antonio didn't know how to explain that the sight before him, Lovino lying in bed in worn pajamas, with his hair messy and a soft smile on his face, was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

* * *

Growing up in an Italian family, Lovino had had his fair share of fantastic food, but pasta was still, and had always been his favorite.

It was no doubt Feliciano's too, he thought as his younger brother came downstairs the moment he turned on the stove. He began to wondering if there was some sixth sense that his brother had that alerted him if pasta was in the vicinity.

"What are you making?" Feliciano asked as he walked into the kitchen, coming to lean on the counter next to him.

"Pasta." He said, though he was sure that his brother already knew. Feliciano's face lit up.

"I _love_ pasta."

"I know." Lovino said. "We all know. You tell everyone. I wouldn't be surprised if you put that in a job resume, or took a sign with you everywhere you go."

"Oh, and you're one to talk." Feliciano said, though he was smiling. Lovino felt the weight on his heart lighten; they were already beginning to make amends.

"Is Antonio going to eat with us?" he asked, and the reporter nodded, glancing back down at his pot every now and again as he spoke.

"I just sent him to the garden to get some tomatoes." He said.

"You like him a lot- don't you?" Feliciano asked, and Lovino stared at him for a minute, wondering if there was a bigger joke behind his words, but his brother only blinked up at him, waiting for an answer.

"Yeah, I like him a lot." He said.

"More than any other boy you've been with." Feliciano pressed, and Lovino felt a blush spread across his cheeks. "You might even _love_ him."

Lovino knew his brother was right, but his throat felt like sandpaper as he forced himself to speak, praying that Antonio wasn't nearby. "I might." He said, and his brother smiled widely.

"I knew it." Leaning back, Feliciano stared up at the ceiling. "It's great- isn't it- to have someone like that?"

"Do you…" Lovino trailed off, wondering if they were at a point where he could bring this up again. With a special effort to be delicate, he continued. "Do you love Ludwig?"

His brother didn't meet his eyes, and the reporter felt a little guilty as his younger brother paused, knowing that he was trying to be careful with his words.

"I do." He finally admitted; his voice quieter than Lovino had ever remembered. "I love him a lot."

The reporter nodded, he'd expected an answer like that.

"But I can see why you might not approve," Feliciano continued quickly, "And I know you're probably just looking out for me, because I can be dumb sometimes. I don't want to cause fights or make you mad or anything- and he's really sweet and would be really nice if you talked to him, and-"

"Feli." Lovino interrupted him, and in one swift moment he swallowed his pride and his worry all in one. "What beer does Ludwig like?"

Feliciano blinked at him, "What? Why?"

"He's going to visit during Christmas isn't he?" he continued, setting the temperature to low as he finally took a step back from his food. "I'm sure he'll come over for dinner, so what beer does he want? God knows I'm not having any."

It took a few moments, but Feliciano's face soon lit up as he understood just what Lovino was getting at. He jumped into the older man's arms, hugging him tightly as he practically radiated glee.

"Oh Lovi, I promise you won't regret this, Ludwig is really great- you'll see."

"I can't make pasta if you choke me to death." He said, pulling away from his brother, though he felt a little warmer at the sight of Feliciano's happiness.

"Speaking of pasta, why is it taking so long?" his brother asked, and Lovino shook his head.

"I sent Antonio out almost forty five minutes ago. I bet he fell asleep in the garden again." He pushed past his brother and towards the back door, handing him the spoon as he went. "Watch the food; I'm going to find him."

Lovino walked through the dewy grass with an ambling gait, put completely at ease from his reconciling with Feliciano. He walked faster towards the garden, knowing that Antonio would be happy to hear about what just happened.

When he reached the tomato plants however, the Spaniard was nowhere in sight. At first Lovino simply shrugged, going on a short walk around his yard; Antonio probably got sidetracked by a butterfly or a squirrel or something of the sort. He wouldn't be surprised if he found his taking a nap in the shade of the cherry tree.

He walked the entire length of the fence, then back to his shed and then through the garden, becoming increasingly confused. Where could the bastard possibly have gone?

"Have you seen Antonio?" Lovino asked as he came back inside, but Feliciano shook his head. "I thought he was outside?"

"He was." The reporter said, pulling out his phone and typing the man a short text. He then bounded up the stairs, wondering if he'd gone to his room without anyone noticing. Both of their beds were empty however, as well as the bathroom.

At that point Lovino pulled out his phone and dialed the other man's number. It was like Antonio to fall asleep somewhere and not show himself for hours, but he was positive he'd seen the man go into the backyard, he'd even been watching him from the kitchen window before Feliciano came downstairs.

The call rang out, and he finally gave in to the concern that had been threatening to bubble up in his mind. He'd officially run out of places Antonio would be, and even if he'd gone out somewhere, he surely would have let someone know first.

"Are you _sure_ you haven't seen him?" Lovino asked as he came down stairs again, doing a thorough sweep of the living room and the dining room before appearing in the kitchen again.

"Not since this morning." Feliciano said, "Did something happen?"

"I don't know." The reporter said, dialing the number again as he grabbed his keys with shaking hands. He nearly threw the object across the room in frustration when he was only sent to voicemail again.

"Is Antonio okay?" Feliciano asked, and Lovino shook his head and headed for the front door. "He better fucking be."

"Where are you going?" he called after him, and the reporter paused for a moment. He didn't know where was going, all that he knew was that something was wrong, and that he had to find Antonio as soon as possible or the rapid beating of his heart might kill him.

"I'm going to find that bastard." He said, opening the door. "I'm calling Alfred too. Stay here, lock the doors. Don't open for anyone you don't know- do you understand?"

"Is he in trouble?"

"I don't know." Lovino said, stepping outside. "Be careful," he added before shutting the door behind him and bounding towards the car. He dialed Alfred's number as he started the engine and sped down the street. He'd check Antonio's apartment first, and then drive through downtown, then-

"Alfred F. Jones, what can I do for you?"

"It's Lovino." He said quickly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I can't find Antonio."

"Your gardener guy?" Alfred asked on the other line. "Well where did you see him last?"

"In my back yard." He said, "I checked all over my house, I'm driving through town right now. I haven't seen him at all."

"How long has he been gone?" the man asked, and Lovino heard him call to someone else in the room before he got back on the line.

"An hour. He's not answering my calls."

"I'm sending a team to his apartment right now, and someone else to your house. Wait a minute- you're downtown?"

"Yes." Lovino said, slamming on his breaks as someone cut him off. He was so distraught that he didn't even flip the man off. He tried to calm himself down, reminding himself that Antonio might have gone to hang out with Francis after all, or maybe he went on a walk. Perhaps he simply didn't think to let Lovino know.

But in the back of his mind he knew that wasn't the case. Antonio had been incredibly cautious when it came to leaving the house. He'd always leave a note or he'd call or _something_. He wouldn't just leave without a word.

"I want you to head back to your house." Alfred said. "If Jonsi is involved, you don't want to be anywhere he could find you. I'll call you as things progress."

"But what are you going to do if he's not as his apartment?" Lovino protested, trying to ignore how his voice shook.

"We'll figure it out." Alfred assured, "Lovino, you need to go-" a beep sounded as another call came in, and when Lovino glanced at his phone he felt an overwhelming sense of relief when he saw Antonio's caller ID. He immediately hung up on Alfred and answered it.

"Antonio, thank God. Where did you go?" he asked, swerving to park his car. For a brief, terrifying moment he was met with only silence.

"Hey Lovi, how are you?"

It was Antonio's voice, and it would have dispelled all of his fear if it wasn't so empty.

"What's going on?" Lovino asked, turning off his car and getting out. "I'm near Main Street, are you there?"

"No I-" he paused and Lovino held his breath. "It doesn't matter. You should tell me about your day."

He stopped in his tracks. Antonio's tone was heavy, his breath ragged, his mind raced as he tried to figure out what was going on.

"Antonio, where are you right now?"

There was a long pause, and he nearly shouted with frustration before the voice on the other line spoke again.

"Feli saw that you were making pasta right? I'm sure he's excited, you're cooking is always so good, Lovi."

There was a muffled voice that echoed in the call, and then sudden, jarring _snap_ , followed by a shout of pain. Lovino was practically pulling his hair out, letting out a string of curses.

"What's happening?! Jesus Christ Antonio you're scaring me. What's going on?"

He only heard heavy breathing for several moments, and then Antonio spoke again, his voice cracking with every other word.

"Are you outside? You need to go home."

"Where are you?" Lovino persisted. "Dear God Antonio, just tell me, please."

"No." he said simply, and then there was another echoing voice, and he heard Antonio curse loudly.

"It's Jonsi, isn't it?" he asked, unable to help himself, he took off in a sprint, though he didn't know where he was going.

"Go home." Was all Antonio said, and then a mind numbing, earth shattering _bang_ sounded on the other line, and Lovino stopped in his tracks.

"What happened?" he asked, his heart clawing its way into his throat when he got no response. "Talk to me Goddammit!"

Nothing else was said for nearly a minute, but Lovino could still hear Antonio's sharp breaths and grunts of pain, and he pressed the phone closer to his ear, his nails digging into his forearm as he did so.

"He left…" Antonio finally said. "It's Jonsi. I think we're somewhere by my apartments, but I don't know. The room's dark."

"I'm going over there right now." He said, "I'm going to call Alfred and-"

"No." Antonio said, and Lovino's eyes widened at the sound of his voice. It was shakier than he'd ever heard it. "Please, just stay on the line with me."

"I _need_ to tell Alfred." He persisted, crossing the street without caring about the traffic on either side of him. "I'll call you right back."

"Please don't hang up." He said softly, "Please, Lovi."

Lovino shook his head, and then skidded down the sidewalk towards a payphone. He thanked God he had his wallet with him as he paid and picked up the phone, dialing the number, but having to redial it due to the violent trembling of his hands. The entire time he kept the other phone pressed to his ear, listening for Antonio's breathing.

When Alfred picked up he quickly relayed what Antonio had said, and through him they exchanged a few questions, before Alfred said something along the lines of "Wait- I think I see something." and hung up.

Before Lovino could run off again, Antonio's voice stopped him.

"Don't try to find me." He pleaded. "I don't know where he went. Get in your car at least. Find some police. Don't go anywhere by yourself."

"But I need to-" he started, but he was interrupted, Antonio's more serious and stern than he'd ever heard it before.

"Just do it." He said, before adding a soft "Please."

At that his shoulders slumped, and he finally gave in to what he'd been told to do this entire time, knowing that Antonio and Alfred where right. Looking around for any suspicious man in a hat and a trench coat, he bolted back for his car, and immediately locked the doors. There were still several people around, which promised him some form of security.

"Are you in your car?" Antonio asked.

"Yes." Lovino said, "My God Antonio, what happened? Are you okay?"

"I don't-" he paused, then groaned, swearing a few times before he continued. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Please," Lovino started, the sound of the gunshot still echoing in his mind. "I need to know."

There was a heavy sigh. "I'm probably not going to be okay."

At that he broke, and tears fell from his eyes as he slammed his fist on the dash in frustration. He'd never felt so helpless in his entire life. "Antonio…"

"I don't want to talk about." The gardener persisted. "What did you do today?"

"I was with you, asshole." He choked, squeezing his eyes shut. "I was with you and I should have noticed you were gone. I shouldn't have had you go outside by yourself. I should have realized what was happening, I should have- FUCK!"

Lovino beat his hand against the dash again, knowing it would bruise but not caring. His voice was softer when he continued. "Please Antonio, don't do this to me."

"I'm sorry Lovi…" he said quietly. "Don't blame yourself, _mi amor._ "

Lovino couldn't respond, dissolving into angry sobs and muffled curses as he mauled the dash with his fist. He'd just been with Antonio this morning, how on earth was this happening?

"I love you, Lovino." He said, "You know that, right?"

"Yes…"

"Don't you _ever_ forget it." Antonio said.

"I love you too." Lovino said quietly, and when he got no response he felt his blood run cold. "What's happening, Antonio?"

His question was only met with ragged, heavy breaths, and no matter how hard he strained his ears, they were all he heard. "Antonio?"

There was no response, and so there he sat for what felt like an eternity, listening to Antonio's breathing as he felt everything in the world crumble around him.

* * *

When he was seven years old Antonio jumped a little too high on his cousin's trampoline, and ended up hitting the pavement. He'd woken up a few hours later in a hospital bed, with his mother worrying at his side and his father pacing on the other side of the room.

This room was empty however, Antonio realized as his eyes focused. Then memories began to flood back, and a heavy, breathtaking pain in his side made itself known, as well as a heavy ache in his leg. He gasped at it, but was able to settle himself in a way that minimalized the pain. He then wondered if he should call for a nurse, or maybe just wait for someone to come in. He didn't know what condition he was in, only that he was alive, and that was good enough for him.

Antonio settled back against his pillow, deciding that he'd go back to sleep, but was only able to doze off before someone appeared into his room.

"Oh! Antonio's awake!" Feliciano said, as he practically ran to the side of his bed, wrapping the man in a tight hug. "How are you feeling? Mr. Jones said you got shot. That's got to hurt, right? Do you need medicine? Do you want me to get a nurse?"

"Yes Feli, get a nurse." He said, trying to kindly push the man away. He was still in pain after all.

The Italian disappeared, and then reappeared a few moments later with a nurse, who quickly went to check his vitals and barraged him with questions. She'd just finished checking his heart beat when Feliciano groaned loudly from across the room.

"Now I have to drive back and get Lovi." He said, pouting. "He's going to be mad if I don't tell him you woke up."

Antonio sat up a little straighter at the sound of the man's name. "Where is he?"

"I just took him home." He said, "He hasn't slept in a while, I could tell because he was being even more of an asshole than normal."

"But he's safe?" The Spaniard urged, "Nothing happened to him?"

"No, he's fine." Feliciano said, "He's really grumpy right now, but I think that might change now that you're awake."

"Well go get him." Antonio urged, sensing that the nurse next to him was beginning to get agitated. Feliciano took off, and in his place walked Alfred F. Jones, the man waited patiently for the nurse to go through her tests and question Antonio, then gave her a wink as she left to get a doctor.

"You're probably wondering what happened." He said, and when Antonio nodded he continued. "Well, there was a shootout, and needless to say Jonsi is very- _very_ dead."

The sudden darkness in his voice startled him, and Antonio wondered if the FBI investigator wasn't as pleasant as he seemed.

"Lovino called when you went missing, and then again once you called him. We were able to figure out that you were in the cellar beneath the storage units. How he got the key is beyond me, we're investigating the owner right now, but I doubt he had any part in it."

Alfred shook his head. "This guy was just mind blowing. He broke out of one of the highest security mental institutions in the country, and then practically disappeared for two months. He managed to snitch the keys from the owner of your apartment complex, and somehow nabbed you without Lovino or Feliciano noticing. How did he do that, by the way?"

Antonio paused, but then a dull ache on the back of his head brought back some memories.

"I don't know what he hit me with, but I was out." The Spaniard said, "Then I just woke up in the back of a car, and as soon as he opened the trunk I tried to fight him. I managed to get the bag off my head before he hit me again, and I was able to see a parking lot that looked like my apartment complex before I pass out. Then I woke up in a dark room. He threw me my phone and told me to call Lovi, and to tell him what's going on. I didn't comply though…" Antonio gingerly brushed his fingertips over his leg. "He broke my leg, and when I still didn't, he shot me and left. I thought I was going to die."

"He probably figured out that you wouldn't tell Lovino anything, and then decided that it would be better to get out of there instead of risk being caught by police." Alfred leaned against the wall on the other side of the room. "I thought he would have finished you off before that, but he had no reason to believe that anyone would find you. That sadistic asshole was going to let you bleed out, which could have taken days."

It was then that a doctor entered the room, and Alfred left with the promise of calling him later. Then Antonio was faced with another set of tests and examinations, and it was another hour before he was alone again. The drugs were just kicking in when there was a knock on his door, but it swung open before he could say anything, and an incredibly pissed off Lovino Vargas stomped in.

"You son of a bitch." He said, stomping towards his bed. "You scared me to _death,_ I was screaming you prick. I haven't slept for shit. I swear to God-"

It took a few moments, but once he was close enough Antonio reached forward and wrapped his arms around Lovino's waist, pulling the man toward him so that he could rest his face against his stomach. If he wasn't sitting down and immobile, he would've done something much more romantic, like sweep him off his feet and kiss him into oblivion or something like that, but this would do for now.

Lovino paused, and then after a moment began to shake, and then sunk down to sit on the bed beside Antonio, his face buried in his shoulder as his body was wracked with sobs.

"I was so scared." He choked out, and the Spaniard felt tears spring into his own eyes.

"I was too." He said, "I'm sorry, Lovi."

"Don't apologize." Lovino said. "Don't talk at all actually. Can we just sit like this for a while?"

Antonio nodded, pulling the man closer to him. He'd never been more terrified in his life than he was in that empty cellar, and when Jonsi had shot him he was certain he was going to die. Lovino was warm however, his hair a little damp from a shower he'd just taken; his skin soft and familiar against Antonio's, and it all was enough to push out the terrible memory from of that night.

Eventually Lovino began to feel heavy against him, and his breathing evened out. Antonio smiled as he turned the already sleeping man around and pulled him back to fit into the space beside him on the bed. A nurse walked in a few minutes later, and when her eyes settled on the pair she said,

"Normally we don't allow this, it makes my job hard." She paused, meeting his eyes. "But he's been here all week, hardly sleeping or eating. So I'll allow it for today."

"Thanks." Antonio said, smiling at her. "He's my boyfriend. He's very cute, but kind of mean too."

She cracked a grin. "It looks like you're tired too. Let me do some tests, then I'll turn off the light on my way out.

* * *

Lovino knew he should probably quit news.

Antonio never said a word to him about it, but Feliciano often brought it up, saying that he had a lot of skill sets, and he could easily go freelance if he wanted to. Lovino knew that, and he knew it was probably a safer route as well, and he was honestly considering it.

His first night back was a celebration, and he blushed at the appreciation and kindness that his coworkers showered on him for finally coming back to report (and undoubtedly make their jobs easier).

The first live shot happened a few weeks later. It was low maintenance; he just had to stand outside a political rally for a few hours. There was no threat of violence, and plenty of security guards. He felt at ease as Elizabeta set up the camera and counted him down, and he only stumbled once throughout his two minute script.

They finished and packed up, and once they'd reached the station he found Francis waiting for him at his desk.

"So Antonio officially moved in with you?" he asked, leaning against his office door.

"We've got a few more things to bring over." Lovino said, taking off his tie and packing away his laptop. "But yeah, we're almost done."

"He's really happy you know." The Frenchman continued. "I don't think I've ever seen him like this."

Lovino felt a blush cross his cheeks. "Well, I _am_ pretty great."

Francis laughed, but when he spoke there was no mirth in his voice. "You treat that boy right, you hear me Lovi?"

"I…" he was stunned; he'd never heard Francis sound this serious about anything besides food and his hate of the British. "I will."

"Good." he said, his voice back to normal. "Now where do you want to go for dinner?"

* * *

For what felt like the thousandth time, he came home to find Antonio in the garden.

"There's a bed you know." He said, startling the man who looked as if he was just starting to dose off. "I mean, you can stay out here by yourself if you want, but there's also the risk of you being kidnapped and shot."

Antonio smiled, patting the space on the bench beside him, and Lovino took it.

"How was your first day on air?" the Spaniard asked, and he shrugged.

"It was okay. It wasn't terrible or anything." He sighed, looking up at the clear night sky. "I think I'm starting to realize something though."

"Yes, _mi amor?_ " Antonio asked, taking his hand and settling back, Lovino leaning against him.

"I don't really like news." He said, "I never did. I just liked writing and being busy, and I have a nice face, which was enough reason for me to do it a while ago."

"What changed?" Antonio asked.

"Well there's the obvious one of you getting kidnapped and shot because some guy held a grudge against me." He said, "Which should be enough reason on its own, but besides that- I did news because it made me feel important, it was the only way for me to feel like I'm doing anything worthwhile."

"But Lovi- you _are_ important, even if you don't do news. You always have been and always will be."

He glanced up at the Spaniard, holding his gaze steady. "Six months ago I wouldn't have believed you."

Antonio looked at him hopefully. "But now?"

"I still think you're just being a sappy dork." He said, and when the gardener frowned he continued, "But you're more fun than news."

At that Antonio's face lit up, a blush dancing across his cheeks. "What do you want to do then? Feli and I both think you could be freelance. Why don't you start a travel blog? We can go to Spain and Italy, maybe France, but not England."

"Not Germany, either." Lovino added. "That sounds fun, but I don't know if I could just up and leave." He paused, and then gestured at the garden. "I wouldn't want to abandon this."

"I can teach Feli how to manage it, or maybe you could hire somebody else until we get back." Antonio said, "That's the beautiful thing about plants. Even if we don't come back for fifty years, as long as they've been watered and cared for they'd still be there. You don't have to ever worry about them fading away."

Lovino stared up at the man, feeling something in his chest flutter. This was one of the rare occasions that Antonio was well spoken, and it left him breathless. For all of his faults, Lovino could never deny that he loved the man.

"We don't have to worry about that right now." The Spaniard said. "There's plenty of other things to do."

"Like make out." Lovino said, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him down for a kiss. Antonio smiled against his lips, then pulled him closer.

"I was thinking career paths." He said, pulling back briefly then kissing him again. "But this works just fine."

* * *

 _The End_

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Hey guys! Thanks for reading. I just wanted to say, I get a lot of "Wait this ended abruptly," with my stories, so I just thought I'd let you know that's kind of my writing style. All of my stories are pretty short. I have yet to write something over 9 chapters, and this one is no exception.**

 **I hope you enjoyed, I worked pretty hard on this last chapter. Feel free to give me feedback if you have a second!**


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